


Letters

by PictionFiction



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: ADHD Junkrat?, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Lúcio Correia dos Santos, Horrible puns ahead, I just sorta realised Junkrat needs a hug he has a lot of issues, I'm bad with naming mental illnesses, Intrusive Thoughts, Junkrat has Anxiety Disorder, M/M, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Lúcio and D.Va, Slow Burn, ish, minor gore, self edited
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2018-07-26 05:47:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7562698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PictionFiction/pseuds/PictionFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Junkrat and Roadhog were on the run. From bounty hunters, other criminals, and the law itself. Most of the world wanted both of their heads at this point. And the going often got tough, but the two of them were tougher. Junkrat liked to think that he punched the going in the face every single time it reared its nasty, ugly head. </p><p>The two of them had always been on the run, from the moment Junkrat had hired his now-partner in crime. Until one day, a message from a mysterious employer offers them mercenary work and a chance to stop running for once. </p><p> </p><p>Slow burnish. This is the first fanfic I've posted online, so don't expect too much.<br/>(Formerly known as Not Gay)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking the Job

**Author's Note:**

> I reserve the right to edit any chapter at any time for continuity. I apologise for the inconvenience. If you'd like notifications when this fic updates or if you have any questions, my Tumblr is https://pictionfiction.tumblr.com
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta readers. You know who you are, and I'll name you when you get AO3 accounts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been re-edited but no major changes have been made.

“Wouldja look at this, our first job with hotel included. It’s our lucky day!” Jamison Fawkes, Junker and anarchist turned mercenary otherwise known as Junkrat, exclaimed to the huge, pot-bellied man beside him. The two of them stared up at the hotel, Jamison’s breath coming out in a little puff of fog. Roadhog, as always, gave a grunt.

Junkrat had learned to distinguish his large companion's odd noises and signals from one another. Hanging around the man for as long as he had, he'd figured out a way to communicate with the otherwise silent giant. 

Aside from his library of nonverbal gestures, Roadhog had an expansive dialect of various noises. One of his deep grunts usually meant an agreement, and a strategically placed cough could be a prompt. Different hums could express different emotions, depending on the tone. A snort of air often meant he was annoyed or frustrated, and a growl was, very obviously to anyone he thought was worth growling at, anger.

Roadhog didn’t growl very often when Junkrat was around.

In the years they’d spent as companions, Junkrat had never really heard Roadhog make any happy sounds. Except perhaps when he was bashing in the skull of a particularly unpleasant individual. Or maybe the rare, brief, telltale snort of mirth when Junkrat was acting like even more like a goofy idiot than usual. Otherwise, Roadhog seemed to be made of stone, especially to people who didn’t understand his rich language of clicks and chuffs and coughs like Junkrat did.

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s only our second contract, don’t get ya knickers in a twist. Come on, we better check in. 'Sides, it's cold out here." The blonde man gave one of his trademark wild grins to his large companion, tiny clouds of white smoke emitting from his lips with each outward breath. His arms gripped at themselves through his thin, woollen jumper.

The two of them had received a message by way of letter deposited in their campsite. Maybe that wasn’t too unusual in their irradiated homeland, if not uncommon, but in the modern society the rest of the world lived in? Letters were almost unheard of, a relic of a bygone age before technology and society grew to the point where instant messaging devices and programs were widespread and paper was a precious commodity.

Roadhog followed the skinny explosives fanatic into the hotel as the smaller of the odd pair pushed the pristine glass door with his grubby, ashy fingers, opening the door to the great hotel.

The thin man swaggered up to the receptionist. The larger man followed Junkrat’s lead. He loomed over both Junkrat and the tired-looking receptionist with his massive, heavily tattooed bulk.

Junkrat coughed, averting the receptionist’s uncertain gaze away from his companion. "S'cuse me, room reservation under…” He fiddled with the pockets of the blue hoodie he wore, pulling out a slip of paper after scrounging through the soft fabric. Passing the paper to Roadhog, the large man read out the name for him.

“...Winston."

The petite lady glanced down at her computer, fingers takking away at the keys for a few moments before she glanced up. "Ah, yes, that's a… hm. There are multiple booked rooms under that name, but they’ve all been checked into except for one. You’re taking the room with the single kingsize bed, I presume?"

Junkrat’s cheeks lit up, eyes narrowing in outrage. "What?! Oi, listen ‘ere, me an’ ‘im ain’t-” He was jolted when he felt a large hand rest heavily on his tattooed shoulder, glancing up at his gigantic companion as his anger smoldered in his belly and eyes.

The seven foot man gave a grunt and a snort simultaneously. The recoiling receptionist didn't react immediately, still worried one of the hooligans before her might be aggravated by her reaction, but the message got through to the skinny mercenary.

"No, I’m not gonna calm down! The bastard set us up! What d’you expect me to do?" Junkrat exclaimed, turning to complain to his friend, exasperated. He began to imitate a British accent, continuing on his rant. "'Good show old chap, thanks for putting me in a room where I share a bed with me best mate!’” His fake accent broke as he yelled in frustration. 

Roadhog gave another, more insistent snort. The insistent noise sobered Junkrat up quickly. He began calming down, breathing out deeply and taking a moment before launching into another, much calmer, fit of rage. “That doesn’t excuse ‘em, ‘Hog!” he protested. The man crossed his arms childishly with a “hmmph!”, head turned grumpily to the side.

The recoiling receptionist chose that moment to pipe up meekly in the ensuing silence. "The, uh... The room has a couch that pulls out into a bed?" 

Roadhog suddenly perked up slightly, seeming to have thought of something. He removed his massive hand from the other man’s shoulder and waited until Junkrat glanced back to him out of curiosity. The large man then moved his levelled hand to his forehead, then down to Junkrat’s.

Junkrat stared at him for a few moments before it clicked. "Ah. Awlright. Well I mean, of course they gotta get you a bigger bed, you're pretty tall, ya need it. My bad. Sorry fa yellin’ at ya, lady."

His white-haired companion grunted, turning and walking off, not waiting for Junkrat to catch up and follow him up the hotel's staircase. 

The blonde Junker let off an annoyed sigh. Most elevators couldn’t handle Roadhog’s pure weight and size, and he often found squeezing through the silvery mechanical doors difficult. Junkrat, on the other hand, had trouble climbing stairs with his pin of a right leg. Buildings with multiple levels were always an annoyance. “I’ll see you at the top!” Junkrat yelled, heading towards the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, a room fit for a king!” Junkrat snickered. “Remember that, Roadhog? When we stole the crown jewels? King Jamison Fawkes the First returns to King’s Row once again!”

Roadhog gave a relaxed sigh at the break from walking and set down their small, shared suitcase. His loud steps and the clinking of chains rang through their room as he walked further into the accommodations, ducking his head to fit through the doorway.

The two Junkers didn't have much in the way of supplies. They packed light normally, especially when they didn’t have to carry sleeping bags. All they really had was a few spare sets of clothing, toiletries, the RIP-tire, disguises for when they needed to go unnoticed, a few luxury items, and an emergency kit for Junkrat’s prosthetic limbs.

Junkrat chuckled at his friend's sigh of happiness. "Oi mate, wanna watch a movie? They've got ‘em on the telly ‘ere."

Roadhog grunted in an agreeing sort of way.

Grinning, the younger Aussie grabbed the remote in a deft movement and began clicking through the TV's menus in order to put on something he liked. He knew Roadhog would enjoy it, no matter what it was. He was cool like that. Besides, they both liked the same old movies, so as long as the TV had those-

“Bloody hell, they don’t have any of the good old stuff!” 

Roadhog gave an annoyed snort, but whether it was out of sympathy for the younger man or frustration at his taste in films was unclear.

“I know! None o’ that good ol’ explosion-filled stuff from ages ago!” Junkrat grumbled.

The huge man that had trampled over to the couch gave Junkrat a disapproving hum.

“Oi, lay off ‘em. They may be bad an’ confusing an’ have no plot, but they got explosions,” He crossed his arms. The blonde stuck out his tongue tauntingly at his companion.

With a chuff, Roadhog’s reached his massive paw down, gently pulling the remote out from between Junkrat’s hands. “Oi! I was using that!”

The giant man delicately fiddled with the buttons until he selected an old movie from before Junkrat was born. The score began to play through the speakers as the logos of film studios went through their short animations. Roadhog gave Junkrat a gentle, uncharacteristically lively elbow to the side. Even with his greater strength, the older Junker was as gentle as always with his friend.

“Heh, you’re real excited for this film, aren’tcha mate?” Junkrat flashed a lopsided grin, his oddly coloured eyes flashing to the man beside him. The huge man responded with a thumbs-up, shifting around in his seat until he settled down with a long, calm sigh of bliss.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen Roadhog looking so… relaxed. It was a strange look on Roadhog, one the younger Junker was unaccustomed to but found he enjoyed. 

The blonde just shrugged at the response. “Awlright then, this’d better be good.”

Roadhog squeezed in beside him, arm resting comfortably on the back of the couch above the blonde. He seemed to be more focused on seeing if Jamie enjoyed the movie, but it was hard to tell for sure through that mask of his. The warmth from his arm, even though it wasn't touching his skin, radiated off of him like the Outback sun over Junkrat's cold back. The relief from the cold of England was a welcome sensation in his humble opinion.

The story was boring to Junkrat. Needless details to make the action make sense. All so dull and lifeless-looking. The people all looked the same to him, but then again he was used to seeing odd folk in odd clothes. It usually took him about at least a half hour into a movie before he could tell the different characters apart, and even then he could only tell the main characters apart. 

His eyes switched onto autopilot as his mind began to wander. Idle daydreams of what the next day would bring invaded his thoughts. Who was their new employer? How long would they be on their contracts? If the job paid as much as he thought it might, what’d the two of them live like after? 

Well, it didn’t really matter, long as they were together. 

…

But what if they weren’t?

What if Roadhog left with his cut of the pay and the two never saw each other again?

Just like that, Junkrat’s mind locked down into a state of stressed, anxiety-fueled panic that made his chest burn and sting. 

Dangerously morbid thoughts of what could happen to him without his best mate, bodyguard, and partner in crime swirled around his head. Why did Roadhog need to stick with him anymore, anyway? With all of the extra stress Jamie was sure he brought Roadhog just because he was around, what with his mechanical bits and mental issues and all the effort that keeping him in check was, why wouldn’t Roadhog leave? He’d probably leave the moment he realised hanging around Junkrat had screwed him over and wasted his t-

He was violently pulled out of his stupor by a familiar, huge hand on his shoulder. Junkrat’s eyes darted towards the face of his companion, or at least his mask. Whenever Junkrat’s mind disappeared, Roadhog would always bring him back.

_‘But if he leaves what’ll happen if I begin panicking and he’s not-’_

A gentle shake of his shoulder and a low rumbling hum reminded him of the concerned giant waiting for a response.

“‘Hog?” His voice was uncertain as he steeled himself to open up about his woes.

_‘You sound so scared, you wuss. Roadhog’ll definitely leave if he thinks you’re wea-’_

Another prompting shake from ‘Hog. Junkrat had never felt as scared as he did now. Amongst all of the threats of growing up in the wastes of Australia, between the vicious packs of wild dogs and the deadly acid rain, losing his best and probably only mate was the one that filled him with pure, unadulterated, all-encompassing fear. 

“I’m… scared. Don’t jus’ up and leave?”

Roadhog gave a gentle nod and sat back down, considerably closer to Junkrat than before. He could feel the huge man’s side pressed against his own, but found that he didn’t mind the physicality of the gesture. The giant man gave no visible negative reaction when Junkrat hesitantly grabbed his arm with both of his for comfort, watching cautiously for a reaction, as they both turned back to the last 45 minutes of the movie.

As the two watched, Junkrat’s mind began to absorb some minor points of the story, smothering his earlier anxieties. Before long, his panicked breakdown was forgotten.

Some point during the film, the exhausting day of travel must have caught up with Junkrat and he must have drifted to sleep. He didn’t remember actually falling asleep, but he’d just woken up. What other logical explanation was there?

He felt a heavy weight resting over him and a warmth wrapped around him. He lay content for several moments, enjoying the comforting feeling and his hyperactive brain whirring in the lowest gear it would allow. Junkrat couldn’t remember the last time he woke up so calm. Waking up before the crack of dawn because of the juddering of his ever-alert brain kicking into gear was more common, but when he glanced out of the nearby window, the sun had already cast its glow over the land.

Junkrat didn’t think the living room had a window. And what was with this weird, warm, heavy… whatever it was? 

Wait a second…

His eyes snapped open fully, darting to the source of the heat. Roadhog, wearing only his pyjamas (which was to say, his underwear and mask), had tucked Junkrat close to his broad, muscled chest in a gentle hug. The two of them lay on the hotel room’s only bed, huddled together beneath the covers.

"Augh! Roadhog, what're you doing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say, really, except the first version of this chapter was half as long.


	2. Meeting the Gang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: The Google doc each chapter of this fic is written on has fun nicknames like "Shipping Hell" or "The Chronicles of I'm gay"
> 
> Anyway, I meant to post this a few days ago, but I've had a very busy week with barely any free time so... here it is?

Jamison’s head jerked back as the yelp of surprise left his mouth. His cheeks burned as hot as the Australian sun as he took in several large, shocked breaths, still straining to be free as he stared up at his captor. 

The huge man that was currently holding Junkrat in a tight boar-hug glanced down at his companion’s face. The murky, glassy depths of Roadhog’s mask eyeholes as unyielding as ever. After several moments, he gently released his friend from the strong grip and gave a soft but rumbling “hmm” to himself. Scrambling, Junkrat peeled away the bed covers and swung his body up and off of the bed.

It was at that moment he realised Roadhog must have taken off his prosthetic limbs for the night, as he lost his balance and fell face-first into the carpeted floor with an “Ow!". Struggling to his foot with the aid of his single remaining hand, the blonde leaned his weight into the arm propping himself up on the bed.

"Oi, what're you trying to pull?" He growled accusingly, moving his arm stump as if he were pointing accusingly, before glancing at it and frowning. “Rrgh, stupid useless arm stump.” Jamison angrily waved the residual limb, shaking it up and down hatefully.

Roadhog was still unphased by his refusal to cuddle. Junkrat would have thought that anyone would be hurt by that sort of response, but he seemingly didn’t mind the dramatic shift in attitude from the wild-haired Junker’s earlier anxious arm-hugging.

_‘What was I ‘fraid of the other day? ‘Course Roadhog would never… um… Whatever I was afraid he’d do. Stupid forgetful-’_

A set of rough words cut through his half-remembered thoughts like broken glass. "...You were cold. And scared."

The twig-like man gave a surprised, owlish blink at Roadhog’s gruff baritone voice, muffled by the mask over his face. He lowered his arm stump, giving a small sigh and rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand sheepishly.

Roadhog almost never spoke. He used his words sparingly, and only when he had no other options. The only times Jamie could even remember the gargantuan man using words was when he had a particularly severe panic attack, to calm him down, and when they’d received their letter.

Junkrat didn’t remember much of the events that happened to him, but he remembered mulling over that paper for several minutes. Glancing through the lines over and over in a fruitless attempt to gain any sort of meaning from them, even though it all just looked like illegible squiggles to him. His memory phased out for a while, but the blonde man could hazily remember Roadhog reading the letter out loud to him. It was more of a feeling than a memory, really, all hazy, and as if he were an observer and not a participant.

Jamison couldn’t remember ever being embarrassed about his literary skills before then. Survival was more important than a proper education in the Australian wasteland, after all, and the ability to read was not a common one. 

But, Junkrat guessed his large companion had been trying to help out both now and when they got the letter, even if Roadhog did seem to be a little too caring or a little too protective at times. Maybe he was just being a good bodyguard, possibly because of the excellent cut of the pay he’d been given?

Still, most mercenaries wouldn’t go so far or do something so... Intimate, to keep their employer safe, but most mercenaries wouldn’t put up with Junkrat’s… Junkrat-ness. He had a feeling, a half-memory that it wasn’t pay that drove Roadhog, as if he’d worried about it before but forgott-

He was jerked out of his thoughts as the man in question rested a hand (or as much of his hand would fit) on his shoulder. Roadhog was leaning over at his side, bringing his masked stare down to Junkrat’s eye level, his head cocked slightly to the side in curiosity.

“I’m fine, doesn’t matter, just thinking... Thanks. Y’know, for not letting me freeze.”

Roadhog showed no visible reaction for a second, continuing to stare at the other Aussie’s face before he abruptly stood up straight to give Junkrat a thumbs up. 

The blonde Aussie ran a hand through his patchy hair, sighing as he did. “Uhm… I thought you didn’t like speaking, big guy.”

Roadhog grunted in agreement. 

After a minute or so of awkward silence, Jamison sighed.

"We, uh... We should get ready for the job, eh mate?"

Roadhog gave another of his signature grunts. 

The blonde man pressed his arm and leg stumps against the bed and the floor respectively, straining for a moment to get up before going as limp as he could without collapsing onto the floor. A pause as he sighed.“Now could you help me up?”

~~~~~~~~~~

The two former Junkers had changed into their work clothes. Junkrat’s outfit consisted of his regular shorts, satchel and harness, sans RIP-tire. Roadhog’s attire was only his usual overalls and barding. Junkrat had briefly considered bringing his most devastating weapon, but he didn’t want to seem too threatening. It was, after all, only a meeting with their employer.

They had clanked and hobbled down the steps of their hotel, and were met in the lobby to be escorted to their meeting place by someone who was apparently working for Winston.

"So, ‘ave you ever been in England before, luvs?"

Lena Oxton was was slim, spoke with a Cockney accent and wore a strange glowing device strapped to her chest. She had been assigned to take them to their new employer, according to her.

"Nah. What's that do-hickey on your chest?"

"Oh this? Tha's my Chronal Accelerator. It’s a long an’ borin’ story. My turn, why’re you called Junkrat?"

The two had chosen to pass the time by asking each other questions about themselves. It was always good to know a little about who you're going to be working with, Junkrat figured. Else he might get into a situation where his employer tried to screw him over, like last time he’d tried doing this sort of work.

"’Cause I’m a Junker. We all got names like that. Like Roadhog over here, ain’t that right Roadhog?”

As Junkrat turned around to look at his large friend, he saw Roadhog had already been watching the grenadier intently. As he wondered how long the larger man had been staring at him, Roadhog jolted into action, tore his gaze away and gave a low grunt.

“Yeah, like Roadhog said,” the thin Aussie gave a lopsided grin, turning back to the Brit.

The athletic woman giggled. “Aaw, you two are the cutest friends.”

Junkrat’s sharp face took on a lovely hue of strawberry pink at the comment. His amber eyes darted around in an attempt to try to avoid looking at her, eliciting a fresh round of giggling from the shorthaired girl.

_‘Quick, distraction! Think of something!’_

“Oi, where’re we going anyway?” Junkrat asked. Years of experience hiding nervousness from bigger, tougher and more vicious Junkers helped to keep his unease out of his tone.

“Here, actually,” Lena grinned, stopping at a grand, old manor. The huge house towered above them, imposing and mysterious. A few similar houses were near, but most of the infrastructure of the street had been replaced with more modern-looking housing.

As Junkrat stared up in awe and gave a “Whoa” at the tall building, the British girl glanced back with a smile. “Nice, isn’t it? It’s my place, been in the family for generations.” She turned and knocked on the dark, rich wooden door. “Winston! I’m back!” Lena called out.

The door creaked open. A tall, scarred, muscled man stood in the doorway. The white-haired man wore a black t-shirt and baggy cargo pants, and bore a huge grin. “Ah, Lena! Bring anozher lot of mercenaries?”

Junkrat gaped at the German accented man’s bulk and height. His eyes darted repeatedly to Roadhog, then back to the other man, trying to work out how tall each of them were in comparison to the other.

_‘They’re almost the same height? How is that possible? I thought Roadhog was unique… It shouldn’t be possible for someone to naturally be so tall!’_

“Yeah! Thanks for gettin’ the door Reinhardt, I’m gonna go introduce these two to Winston.” 

Lena blinked ahead. 

Junkrat wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened. One moment Lena was standing next to him and Roadhog, and the next she had appeared a few metres ahead, a bright blue contrail behind her.

The young Aussie recoiled back out of shock at the abrupt flash-forwards their guide had, earning a chuckle from the man Lena had called “Reinhardt”. “Gah!” Junkrat yelled. “What?! How’d you do that?!”

She smiled and rapped her gloved knuckles against the white plastic cover of her Chronal Accelerator, giving the two Junkers a mock salute before flashing off again.

Junkrat and Roadhog shared a look. Or, at least, the best look they could manage with both the huge man’s mask in the way and their differences in height.

Roadhog shrugged at him and started following her inside, hook and chain clinking with every movement. After a few moments of stunned silence, Junkrat shook off his surprise and hurried behind his tattooed companion after Lena.

The door closed with a satisfying click as Junkrat stepped into the building. The warm, artificially heated air of the grand building was the first thing to hit him, washing over his cold body. _‘Ahh… Much better,’_ his mind murmured appreciatively, eyes closing in bliss. He stopped to savour the warmth, spinning around slowly and spreading his arms wide to expose as much of his torso as possible to the toasty-warm air.

A gentle, amused chuff interrupted his moment of luxury, and Junkrat’s eyes snapped open. Roadhog stood in his line of vision, waiting for him to finish his self-indulgent spinning. 

“Roight, okay.” Junkrat stopped, bounding forwards through the foyer to join his huge companion. Together, they headed the same way their guide had. As they followed the path Lena had taken and exited from the corridor they’d passed into, the blonde heard a low, threatening growl from the huge man beside him. Turning to Roadhog, he followed his line of sight to see...

An omnic. Specifically, a Bastion unit, like the model used in the first Omnic Crisis, seemed to be having a conversation in beeps and boops with a more human-looking omnic. 

He scowled at them before glancing back at Roadhog, who was still giving the two omnics a death glare through his mask.

How _did_ one give a death glare through an inexpressive mask? 

However it was done, Roadhog pulled it off beautifully. One of the two bots had glanced over, and now appeared to be more alert. It wasn’t exactly fear, but considering it was an omnic it was good enough.

As much as Junkrat hated omnics, right now he wanted to keep moving more. He didn’t want another flop like the one in Sydney, did he?

“Oi, Roadhog.” No response.

“Earth to Roadhog, come in Roadhog.” Still nothing. He seemed to be too intent on his hatred for the machinations to realise Junkrat had been talking to him. _‘Maybe I gotta do something big?’_

The blonde rushed over to his friend, grabbing the muscled arm in both of his own and giving a futile pull in an attempt to drag Roadhog away. The sensation of Junkrat’s pulling and the clack of his pegleg on the hardwood floors seemed to snap Roadhog’s attention away. 

The white-haired man looked down, saw his companion clinging to his arm, and took a few steps away from the omnics with a snort. 

“Hey, I’m tryna stay on task this time! C’mon, we gotta hurry, we’ll smash ‘em later, ‘kay mate?”

Roadhog gave a low rumble of frustration, then after several moments added a nod of agreement.

The masked marauder nodded and allowed himself to be dragged off by the blonde. Or, at least, as much as the skinny Aussie could drag 250 kilos of muscle-bound killing machine. After several fruitless seconds of attempts, Roadhog conceded, and the two hurried over to where Lena had gone. 

When they’d finally navigated the mansion and tracked her down in the study, they found her conversing with a...

A monkey.

Junkrat wasn't quite sure what he’d anticipated, but he knew it wasn’t a monkey. A monkey wearing a set of what looked like power armour, complete with an inbuilt jetpack and a pair of glasses was the last thing he could have expected.

Really, the situation couldn’t get much weirder.

“So, what do you think, big guy?” The spiky-haired girl grinned, questioning the large, armoured ape. He was currently resting in a chair, adjusting his glasses as he peered at the Junkers. 

“Hmmm… I know we don’t have a lot of options, but a pair of criminals? I don't know about this, Lena...”

"You're a monkey," Junkrat deadpanned.

The monkey in question and Lena turned to him.

"Uh... Nice to meet you? I'm a great ape, actually," the 'Great Ape' extended his hand, his face friendly.

"Nah, I'd say more of an okay ape. Don't know ya well enough ta call you great ape. 'Sides, ain't it a little pretentious to call yourself great?"

The primate chuckled. "Fair point, fair point."

“Come on Winston, we can give them a try! Not like we have too much choice anyway, so, why not?” Lena pleaded, turning the ape's attention back to her.

The blonde bomber’s eyes widened, his scruffy, wild eyebrows exploding upwards. “This is Winston? Sure, why not, because a power-armour wearing ape’s not weird enough on it’s own,” he mumbled sarcastically to his white-haired friend.

The great ape gave a snort as he glanced at a clipboard grasped in one paw. “Hmph. Well, I suppose we need as many capable people as we can get. Lena, take these two to Angela for a medical check-up, make sure they’re in good health.” Winston began to turn away in his swivel-chair to face the desk, until he paused and waved a paw flippantly at the three of them. “Oh, and get Torbjörn to look at the skinny one’s prosthetics.”

Lena gave a grin in response. “Alright, I’ll get to it Winston. Come on then lads, we’re going to see the doctor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, geddit? Gang? Like a gang of gorilla-yeah okay I think you guys got it. I apologise if I offend anyone with the accents (feel free to politely correct me), but I just love the diversity of the characters and accents in this game and I want to celebrate that. And sorry for the omnic stuff, I'm just trying to stick to the canon as much as possible.
> 
> If you see any grammatical errors, please tell me! I always appreciate feedback.
> 
> I aim to update within a week.


	3. Joining the Fight

“Mr. Fawkes, the results from your physical are very alarming. You are extremely malnourished for someone of your height, you have a serious deficiency in both vitamin C and E, and you have microfractures all along your right femur and pelvis, likely from the poor shock abzorbtion of your prosthetic as well as your poor posture. You also have an odd form of what I could only assume is chronic radiation syndrome, Dupuytren’s Contracture, one of the worse cases of icterus I've ever seen, and partial deafness. You are very lucky to be alive.”

Junkrat blinked. “Okay.”

Angela Ziegler, field medic, raised a surprised eyebrow in reaction. “Okay? The normal reaction to news like this would usually be more panicked. May I ask why you aren’t worried?”

“Well, I ain’t dead yet, am I?” 

The medic just stared at him for a moment before giving a somewhat nervous chuckle. “That you are not, Mr. Fawkes. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to study you after this is all over.”

Junkrat mulled over the proposition for several moments before giving a grin. “Sure, long as we get compensated.” 

Dr. Ziegler nodded with a polite smile. “Of course. Now,” her tone dropped into a more serious, authoritative one. “Roadhog, as you refused to put your real name or even take off your mask,” she verbally jabbed, prompting a snort from Roadhog and an indignant glare from Junkrat. “I was unable to perform a proper physical, as I can’t legally force you to remove your mask. Though it would have made this simple check-up a lot easier, you know.”

“Anyway, your only issues seem to be acute radiation poisoning and a non-lethal variety of skin cancer. The only thing I’d recommend are zunscreen pills for both of you, and vitamin tablets as well as a more varied diet for Mr. Fawkes.”

“Where’ll we get that stuff?” Junkrat mumbled to his companion, brow creased.

Roadhog just shrugged his huge shoulders, the chainlinks on his shotgun jingling at the movement.

The blonde glanced back at the doctor, clearing his throat. “You wouldn’t happen to have some’a that stuff on ya, wouldja?”

With a sigh, Angela raised her clipboard, jotting down something on a slip of paper. “Come back after you get briefed and I’ll give you a prescription. Not that you need one for zomething like this,” she mumbled under her breath, “but I get the feeling you’d forget if you didn’t.”

“Ta,” Junkrat thanked. Roadhog grunted, nudging him with a burly forearm. “‘Hog says thanks, too.”

She gave the two a nod in reply. “Torbjörn, our engineer should be ready to make sure your prosthetics are up for the job, Mr. Fawkes. He’s just over that way, in the bedroom on the left.” She gestured up a grand staircase dominating the entrance hall of the mansion. 

Junkrat stared at the stairs for a second or two before his eyes narrowed in hatred. “Ah, me old enemy. Stairs.” he began to slowly hobble up the steps, making sure his pegleg was firmly lodged on a step before daring to take another. 

His large companion heaved himself up the stairs behind the lean man, making sure that he wouldn’t suddenly lose balance, topple backwards and injure himself, or worse. Roadhog’s large gut would make an adequate pillow on its own, but he held his arms out anyway. 

They finally arrived at the guest bedroom that had been indicated and opened the door to find a very short-looking man tinkering with a strange weapon at a desk covered in various tools. The bed had been shoved to the corner of the room, and more than half of the duna was covered with tools and technological tidbits. 

“Alright, yer Sonic Amplifier is all set to go. I worked out those kinks in the formattin’. It’s a beautiful gun, keep it in good condition, ya hear? I don’t want to have to work on it again.” The dwarfish man joked.

The taller man beside the tinker grinned, taking his gun with a “Hey, thanks!” and skating off past Junkrat. “Next person’s here!” He yelled behind him before somehow darting off down the stairs on his skates.

The mechanist raised his voice without glancing back at the two Junkers. “Oh, anather group of new recruits. Come in, come in. Let me see yer weapons.”

Junkrat didn’t move from the door frame, staring at the short man’s back for a few moments before he responded. “Nah, mate. My gun. No one touches it but me. Same for him,” he grinned lopsidedly, jabbing his robotic thumb back at Roadhog, who promptly growled and hugged his homemade shotgun to his chest.

The inventor glanced back at them, an amused smirk on his face. “Alright, yer call. So if it’s not for weapon repairs, why are yeh here? Did Mercy send yeh?”

“No, the doc sent me,” the oblivious Junker replied. “She said me prosthetics oughta be checked.”

Torbjörn waved his claw at a desk and chair that had been roughly shoved against a wall. From the set-up, it seemed that the room’s temporary owner only cared about having space to work. “Alright, sit down over here,” he directed.

Junkrat’s fiery eyebrows lowered. As if he was about to trust someone he barely knew with his arm. “No funny business, roight? It’s my arm, don’t mess it up, ‘kay mate?” The Australian growled threateningly.

“Calm down there, kid. I’m not taking it apart. It’s just a check.”

Warily, the Junker sat down, resting his robotic prosthetic arm on the table. Junkrat’s amber eyes darted to the short man’s approaching hand, watching as his arm was slowly unstrapped and disconnected. Torbjörn dug a very thin screwdriver into a tiny hole in the base of the prosthetic. The appendage fell limp as the battery was switched off. “Yeh know, yeh could leave yer parts here and go get briefed, if yeh think you’d manage without a few limbs.”

A playfully sarcastic grin affixed itself to the Junker’s face. “Oh yeah, I’ll definitely be fine to go wander around alone with, what? One leg and one arm?”

If the long-bearded engineer was offended at the somewhat rude remark, he didn’t show it. Torbjörn chuckled and waved his robotic claw at the large masked man behind Junkrat, finally detaching his arm to expose the scarred stub beneath. Angry-looking red marks dug into the base of the stump in a circular pattern. “Th’ nervous receiver’s grip looks t’ be too small. Have ta fix that up,” The mechanist muttered. He raised his voice, continuing the discussion. “I’m sure yer friend there’ll be happy to carry yeh around.”

Roadhog held a thumbs-up to his smaller companion, leaning forwards so he was closer to the two of them.

The shorter Aussie grumbled, lifting his pegleg onto the table when the machinist gestured for him to do so. 

Junkrat rolled his eyes lightly, giving a lopsided grin in spite of himself. “Oi Roadhog, up for the task?”

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat stared down at the other mercenaries gathered around, grinning from his perch on Roadhog’s shoulders. His leg was wrapped around his friend’s side the best it could, and what little remained of his right forearm curled around the other man’s shoulders like a weird sort of hook.

“Hah! How do you like me now, wankers?! I’m the king of the bloody world!”

The messy-haired man yelled, causing several heads to turn his way and eliciting a mix of laughter, annoyed glares and indifference. He grinned at their reactions.

_‘Relax, Jamison, no one’s judging you. Everyone’s too focused on how bloody hilarious you are.’_

Junkrat’s face heated up slightly when his masked friend gave a chuckle at his antics, jostling him slightly and making the smaller man scramble to keep hold on the larger’s broad, muscular shoulders, small neck and huge belly.

“Oi, muscles,” Junkrat called down to the tubby man beneath him, digging his fingers in slightly in an attempt to catch his attention. “Don’t jostle me, I’ll fall. Roight?”

Roadhog hesitated mid-stride, giving a grunt of confirmation before continuing to walk with more caution.

“Hey, just thoughta something. Y’know how me arm’s around your neck like this?” Junkrat jostled the limb slightly, only daring to dig it in further. “You could say I’ve… Hooked you. Eh? Eh?”

Roadhog only gave a slightly amused snort.

Someone gave a deep cough, prompting the two to look up. Several others that had been chatting amongst themselves or distracted by the Australian’s antics followed suit. “Now, if we’re done here…” A few chuckles rose from some of the older members of the crowd at the ape’s statement.

“Alright, I’ve called you all here because, well, you’ve all seen the news.” Winston adjusted his glasses with a gloved paw, and produced some palm cards from a pocket in the casing of his armour with the other. When he next spoke, his words carried a powerful, commanding tone.

“The second Omnic Crisis is upon us, people. We need to band together. Overwatch was disbanded by the government, and we were forbidden to ever contact each other about it again.”

“Bloody Omnic sympathisers… Oi wait, he said he’s Overwatch, he’s on their side,” Junkrat mumbled harshly to his friend, lowering his mouth to his ear so he could do so in privacy.

“Many of you would never work together. In fact, many of you would rather kill each other than do so. In this room is currently the most diverse group of fighters on this planet. We have soldiers,” a paw was waved towards a kid in a bunny t-shirt, a set of headphones looped around her neck. “Doctors,” another wave, this time towards Dr. Ziegler. The healer offered a gentle smile in response. “Engineers,” Torbjörn waved a claw in response. “Intellectuals,” Winston indicated a person wearing a gigantic, thick coat that drew Junkrat’s attention. 

_'I want that coat. They're probably not freezing to death.'_

The great ape continued to speak. “Assassins,” a wave towards an odd, blue-skinned woman with a scowl on her face. “Celebrities,” and Junkrat once again spotted the skate-wearing man from earlier. “And mercenaries, just to name a few.” Junkrat gave a nervous thumbs-up as the crowd looked at him.

“Normally, we’d never consider working together from our difference in views, but normally we aren’t faced with a problem of this magnitude. Cities are being attacked, and even levelled. Tensions between human and omnic are higher than they’ve been for twenty-five years.” He paused to switch palm cards. “I know some of you might be thinking this doesn’t concern you, but the Earth is your home, too. We need to protect it, so we can fight another day. If things keep going the way they have, there will be no Earth to fight over.”

“If we don’t act now, when? Will we wait until fear has divided us permanently, or will we fight for tomorrow, today?” Winston reached back to his pouch and tucked his palm cards back away. 

The dining hall was silent for several moments. A loud clap broke the quiet, followed by another set of hands and another joining in. Soon, almost everyone in the hall was clapping, even if the blue lady from before seemed to be doing more of a slow clap.

Junkrat nudged Roadhog with a gentle kick from the part of his leg that used to be a knee. “Oi, boofo, whatcha think?”

But Roadhog was too busy clapping to reply.

“Huh. Didn’t expect you ta be one for mushy stuff like this.” The giant man paused his clapping, looking up at Junkrat when he commented. Roadhog gave a low rumble in response.

“Wait, are we gonna blow up omnics?” Junkrat’s voice was almost giddy with excitement.

Roadhog nodded.

“Whoooooooo-hoooooooooo!” He yelled out, punching the air with his gloved fist. Several heads turned towards him at the sound. Too late, Junkrat realised that too much weight was thrown into his punch.

He waved his arm and arm-stub wildly, half-swimming through the air in an attempt to get his balance back, panicked noises spilling from his mouth. Adrenaline filled his system as the Aussie man began to topple backwards. His eyes snapped shut out of fear as he started falling towards the ground from Roadhog’s-

Suddenly, strong, large hands had wrapped around his midsection, snatching him out of the air and gingerly cradling his skinny torso. Junkrat flinched at the sudden impact, despite how safe and welcoming the half-embrace felt. After he gave himself several moments to calm down, he opened his amber eyes to see...

Roadhog, clutching him between his massive hands. The giant of a man had spun around and grabbed him almost impossibly quickly, considering his bulk. Junkrat’s back, so easily breakable, was poised over the ground. If Roadhog hadn’t caught him in time...

He decided not to think about it. 

Mind back to the situation at hand, Junkrat stared up at his saviour, shock splayed out over his face. “Uh…” he eloquently stated, drawing a chuckle out of his pig-masked friend.

Roadhog never chuckled.

Junkrat continued to stare at him for several moments before the larger man hoisted him back up onto his shoulders. He held the blonde’s leg-stump in place delicately between two massive forefingers and a thumb, rumbling something through his thick mask.

“Yeah, ‘m fine. Caught me in the nick’a time.” Junkrat tried to give a comforting smile, but it probably turned into a wild, maniacal grin while he shaped it.

A very deliberate-sounding cough snapped their attention back to the gorilla at the front of the room. Winston dropped his poker-faced gaze down to a new set of palm cards, this time on a lemony-yellow paper-substitute instead of the previous pale blues.

“Now, I have a few announcements to make. We need to cut costs where we can, so some of you might have to bunk together.”

Junkrat excitedly elbowed Roadhog’s shoulder with his arm stump.

“Before we all depart tomorrow, please try to find a group that you’re comfortable sharing a room with and notify me in writing. Now, wait here while I get the contracts all set up.” The ape padded off, long arms moving in sync with his smaller legs.

The blonde junker leant down over his companion’s masked face as much as he could without toppling over. “This’ll be interesting, ey ‘Hog?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: I just realised exactly WHICH chapter is next. It might take me a loooooong time to edit this one. 
> 
> Hey guys, Mercy’s diagnosis of Junkrat at the beginning actually comes almost word for word from a post I saw on Tumblr. I know nothing about medicine and I can’t source it accurately. All I’m saying is I couldn’t have written it without that one person on Tumblr. If that person reads this, thank you so much for inadvertently helping me. I would have asked to use this if I could have found you, but… 
> 
> Also apparently the entire game is non-canonical? So the entire plot of my fic doesn't make sense? Y'know what screw it in my fic I'm considering both as canon I put way too much thought and effort into making both the game and everything else make sense in one canon universe.
> 
> I might have to begin posting chapters every week and a half. The struggle to get the chapters out in time's a bit stressful and I just have no time. Anyway, tell me if there are any spelling or grammar errors and I'll fix them up right away.


	4. Preparation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long, a bunch of stuff happened in my life that took my focus away from writing and then after that I sorta lost the drive to write. Everything's sorted out now, but updates may be more sparse. I made a promise to myself to not freak out about deadlines or getting chapters out frequently, because that's how I have panic attacks and stuff. I have to work at my own pace to keep myself emotionally healthy.
> 
> The next chapter's gonna be a bitch to edit, by the way. Chapters 4 and 5 were just... Unusually messy. But hey, this chapter's the longest I've written so far at a whopping 3,000 words. I'm not even sure how I did that...

“Alright luvs,” Tracer, as Junkrat had come to learn Lena’s alias was, held up a clipboard. The diverse group of fighters had all signed their contracts, and now were being briefed on the protocols that had been put into place.

“Winston and Angela’ve finished a schedule for different teams. With th’ amount of people we have, we’ve organised a system of three teams of six. The teams will change based on different missions that need to be run, but with the numbers we’ve got so far, three of you will be on standby, so you’re not always working. You’re free to spend that time as you want.”

Junkrat tightened his grip on Roadhog’s shoulders, hunching down closer to his friend. “Hope we don’t get separated, eh mate?” He chuckled nervously. Roadhog just gave a low grunt of agreement. 

“Winston’s created a small communications device for each of us that will give us our schedule, including missions, hotels, and team changes.” Tracer held up a small, square, white and silver disklike device. “It uses a connection that is untraceable by the current technology of most governments. ‘Cause, y’know, what we’re doings technically illegal.”

“Untraceable? More like un _tracer_ ble!” Junkrat yelled from his place in the crowd. A few people laughed, but the vast majority of the people gathered groaned from the sheer terribleness of the pun, including Roadhog. 

“Aw, come on ‘Hog, ya know ya love me jokes,” Junkrat grinned. Roadhog simply fixed him with an angry glare from behind his mask. 

“Anyway, all the buttons are labelled.” Tracer paused to flip through her notes. “Everyone’s got an assigned device. Jus’ take yours from the table over there,” she pointed at a table to the side of the room, not looking up from her clipboard. “If you have any problems, come back here and tell Winston or I before tomorrow, so we can fix it up for you. Happy reading!” Tracer blinked off to the left, dashing off to who-knows-where in the huge mansion.

After the speedy girl had darted off, several people of all shapes and sizes stepped forwards to take their communication devices from the table. Roadhog trampled over to the table, grabbing two devices that had been labeled “Roadhog” and “Junkrat” in his huge hand. Junkrat grinned, hand still gripping Roadhog’s muscular upper arm. “Come on big guy, let’s go get my limbs back.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat pushed open the door to their hotel room, his prosthetic hand pressed against the smooth, manufactured surface. “Oi Roadhog, you up for cookin’?”

The masked man in question grunted in response, waiting until his companion was in the living room before squeezing himself through the entrance. He trampled in, dumping the grocery bags in hand on the kitchen floor.

The two of them had, as Junkers were wont to do, camped in the more deserted regions of Outback Australia. In their early days they had taken turns cooking before they had learned the hard way that Roadhog was the most likely to not make questionable choices concerning flavour or poisonous wild mushrooms.

The large man seemed to enjoy cooking anyway, from what Junkrat picked up. The blonde just ended up stockpiling instant noodle cups when he camped alone. 

The huge beast of a man, peeling away the disguise that he had worn to the store, went to wash his large paws in the sink. As Roadhog set to preparing the meal, Junkrat plopped his behind down on the room’s couch. The harness he usually wore lay across the arm of the couch, and his hoodie - his disguise - held his body heat in.

He flipped the hood of the garment off his head with a quick flick of his wrist, freeing his mane of wild hair. With the other hand, he grabbed the TV remote to put on a movie. Junkrat began to cycle through the menus of the hotel’s movie service. “Oi Roadhog, feel like watching old action movies, or ya wanna choose again?”

Roadhog popped his head out of the kitchenette, holding up one thick finger in response.

“Alright, action movies it is!” Junkrat grinned, beginning to excitedly tap away at the buttons of the remote. He scrolled through the list of movies until he arrived at a new release he’d never seen before. 

His head spun around to the kitchenette, grinning happily. “Found one!” Junkrat drummed the fingers of one hand against the armrest with anticipation until Roadhog leant out from behind the dividing wall, giving a snort of annoyance. 

“Alright, I’ll stop, but wait for me, okay?” The blonde said, exasperated. He didn’t wait for an answer, opting to instead head towards the bathroom.

Junkrat slipped into the small room, where he quickly found some soap and a washcloth. He began setting to preparing the washcloth for his daily routine. Once he’d finished getting the cloth ready, he quickly settled himself down on the toilet lid and immersed himself in the task.

 

The man reached down to disconnect his leg, loosening the clamp that kept it in place and resting the limb against the nearby wall. With a single arm, he worked off the straps of his prosthetic arm and switched it off with a bent paperclip he retrieved from his satchel. Junkrat began to work the soft, soapy fabric over his limb stumps, washing the day’s sweat and dirt from them. He gave a relieved sigh as the dampened cloth washed over the angry, red marks embedded in his leg.

_‘Bloody annoying prosthetics. Ah well, least it’s relaxing. Wait, prosthetics? Prosthesis, prosthesi? Prosthesises? Prostheses?’_ He mused as he grabbed at a nearby towel and gently patted his residual limbs dry. He almost robotically moved on to cleaning away the grime that may have collected on his arm stump. Finally, he’d finished the routine, quickly affixed his prosthetic limbs back on his stumps and strode out of the bathroom. 

As he collapsed into the soft embrace of the couch, Roadhog poked his head out of the kitchen and gave a questioning hum.

“Nah, no shower. Maybe later.” The blonde-haired maniac lazed on the couch for several more minutes until he heard the telltale loud clomping footsteps of his companion approaching the couch with a home-cooked meal. 

Roadhog gently rested his large backside down on half the couch’s length, leaving little room for the two of them to sit together. Junkrat didn’t mind. He was used to it by that point, what with Roadhog’s massive bulky body hindering more than helping them sometimes. 

The huge man passed a plate of odd-looking foodstuffs to Junkrat. The smaller man looked down at his meal on confusion. “Oi, what’s all this gunk? Why’s it green? Y’sure it’s safe to eat, ‘Hog?”

Roadhog glanced over and gave a chuff and a nod. 

“Yeah, but what is it?”

The giant gave a low huff and a rumble of “This’s how veggies used to look.”

Junkrat gave a blink of surprise before realisation dawned upon him. Of course the other parts of the world would have non-mutated plant life, unaffected by the fallout of the Australian Omnium’s explosion. “Ohh… Ya mean this is the ‘good stuff’?” He asked, making air quotes with one hand. At Roadhog’s nod of confirmation, he tucked into his meal and begun to carefully taste the unusual meal.

He ate the food with his hands, lacking the cutlery skills to eat the meal politely, quickening his pace as the flavourful meal hit his tongue. His larger companion ate his own food more slowly, holding his utensils almost with grace. Junkrat scarfed down his meal as quickly as he could, turning to look up at the TV when Roadhog began to play to movie. Despite the lack of manners and his rushed pace, Junkrat still managed to not drop any food.

Once Junkrat had finished his meal, he gave a hiccup and a pleased sigh. “Great tucker, as always.”

Roadhog grunted, unmuffled by the mask he’d shoved halfway up his face, and continued to eat as he watched the movie. His body was turned away from Junkrat, as if to try to still obscure his face in some way.

”Gimme a sec, I’ll be right back.” Junkrat hopped to his foot and pegleg, walking off towards the kitchenette with his messy plate and untouched utensils. He would have rather just ignored it, but it was just second nature when camping, and so ingrained into his brain that he forgot he didn’t need to clean up immediately. He didn’t want to attract any rats to their sleeping place, after all.

Once he’d scrubbed and washed the plate clean, he shook the water that clung to his forearms off, rested the former meal on the counter and headed back to the couch, only to see…

Roadhog had peeled his mask off and rested it face-up on the small, oval coffee table they had shunted to the side of the small room. His back faced Junkrat, and his hair was still up in his usual ponytail.

_‘Would he get pissed if I went over there? I’ve never really seen ‘im without his mask. Would he mind? He probably would. I should’a asked bef-’_ his mind paused as his chest jumped violently, shoving a hiccup out of his lungs and past his mouth. _‘before.'_

The huge man had already finished eating, and was rubbing at the sides of his face and at the back of his scalp as if to soothe any discomfort his mask had caused. Frayed white hair drifted over his ears, broken from poor maintenance and illuminated only by the light of the television in the darkness. 

Junkrat simply stared at him from behind, his curiosity too great to look away as he waited for Roadhog to turn his head. He knew how secretive Roadhog tended to be, and seeing him, even from behind, without a mask on was surprising to him. He didn’t even take it off for sleep.

And before he knew it, Roadhog had gingerly slipped his mask back on and rested it around his face. Junkrat snapped out of his stupor, his curiosity unsated. Quickly, he hurried back to the couch and plonked himself down beside Roadhog. The bright lights of the TV screen shone as the movie’s story played out before the two Junkers.

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat couldn’t sleep.

He shifted around in the foldout bed, trying to curl up into the couch’s armrest as much as he could without sleeping funnily on his limb stumps. But, try as he might, the cold of the English air was still seeping through the duna. 

His brain was too awake to sleep, anyway. Junkrat was so used to sleeping under Roadhog’s watchful eye that his own mind was rebelling against the notion of rest in favour of worrying. And staying alert. In case anything happened.

_‘It probably won’t though, right? We’re in a hotel, we’re got gonna get attacked while we sleep… Right?’_

After several more minutes of trying to lie still, Junkrat sat up, shivering as warm air escaped the confines of the duna. The cold nipped at his exposed flesh and chilled his bones through his hoodie. The slim man made a fruitless attempt to retain some of his body heat by huddling his arms to his chest, but it was hard when he didn’t have two full ones to use. 

“Shit, bloody cold England…” He murmured into the chilled air of the hotel room.

He trembled in the frosty air for a while longer before he heard the sound of his friend sleepily padding through their room. The usual loud, ringing clomp of his metal-toes boots was absent, Junkrat noted. Of course it’d be, though. Who slept with shoes on? He felt like smacking his forehead from the stupidity of the thought, but before he tried Roadhog interrupted with a rumble of “Cold?”

The thin Junker gave a grumble. “Yeah, sorta…”

Without another impossibly low word, the muscle-bound man picked up the frostbitten Junkrat bridal style, wrapping the duna and his arms around him carefully as he turned to head back to his much larger bed. He hesitated, grabbing his companion’s mechanical bits before heading off.

“Heh, cuddling again? This’d better not become a regular thing. ‘S too…” Junkrat’s lazily formed sentence trailed off as his tiredness got the better of his need to complain. His eyelids flickered slightly as he tried to stay awake, but his brain had begun to calm down with the new safety and warmth Roadhog’s arms provided.

The heat from the masked man’s large, meaty arms wrapped around Junkrat, and he relaxed into his friend’s grip. The light rocking motions from the huge man’s steps put his mind at ease, rocking him gently. The younger man could feel Roadhog’s huge paw stroke his side comfortingly as if he were a puppy.

This felt… Different. Normally when Roadhog carried him around, it was because he couldn’t walk without his prosthetics. He still couldn’t, of course, but this time the large man seemed almost… Caring? But maybe that was just his tired brain talking. 

The soothing motions of the walking and petting combined lulled him into a peaceful, quiet sleep.

The next thing he knew, Junkrat woke in the room’s large, king size bed, a thin sheet the only thing separating him from Roadhog’s otherwise bare chest and rotund stomach. He could feel the rise and fall of the other man’s ribcage with every breath against his back. Junkrat felt odd this morning, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. He mused for several moments, a black fingernail scratching at his chin. ‘Eh, maybe I’ll remember later.’ He satisfied himself with his own answer, ignoring the fact that he’d forgotten and would probably not remember.

Junkrat’s companion stirred, releasing an arm from around the skinny Junker as he began to wriggle and squirm in impatience. Roadhog gave a grunt of greeting as he rolled onto his back, huge hands resting on his belly.

Junkrat’s face grew hot as colour flew into his cheeks. “Hey, uh… ‘bout last night… ah, thanks mate.”

The larger Junker grunted in reply. 

“So… first daya work.”

Roadhog grunted an acknowledgement of his statement.

“...Y’wanna get up and make some brekkie?” 

The white-haired man hesitated for a moment.

_'What, you tired? Or do you just not want to get up?'_

After a few seconds pause and Junkrat’s growing anxiousness, he swung his body off the bed with surprising ease for his size and trampled off to fix the two of them a meal.

Junkrat got up, strapped on his prosthetic limbs as fast as possible, and followed his friend to the kitchen. One bowl of cereal later and he had begun changing into his equipment. 

He began to peel off his jumper, working his elbows through the garment and pulling it over his head. The semi-warmth of his hoodie faded as the chilly morning air hit his bare chest. Junkrat quickly replaced the garment with his harness, RIPtire and ammo satchel. He haphazardly shoved his grenade launcher into his satchel, the weapon half hanging out. 

“Hmm… Nah.” He hooked the handle of the gun over his satchel strap, between the bag and his flask. “Perfect!” Junkrat exclaimed with a wide grin, paying no attention to how precariously balanced his grenade launcher was. 

“All ready!” he yelled out for Roadhog.

Roadhog hummed in reply, trampling out from the kitchenette with a bowl of cereal in hand. He wore nothing but a pair of underpants. 

Unfazed by Roadhog’s attire, Junkrat began to scarf down his meal. His mind began to wander, calling back a previous mental conversation with himself. _‘So, why am I feeling weird? Is it because of last night? Well, that’s probably the only thing it could be. So what exactly was weird?'_ He paused shoveling the corny flakes into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. _'Maybe the cuddling? Argh, what else normally happens when I sleep?'_

Suddenly, it hit Junkrat like a sack of bricks. 

_‘I didn’t… have a bad dream?’_ His brows furrowed in confusion. He’d had a bad dream every night ever since he could remember, but thinking back, he’d slept unusually well the past two nights. _‘Why though?’_

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat raced along the streets of King’s Row, whooping loudly. His earlier worries had been forgotten and buried under his excitement as he loped along the cobbled roads.

The whole area had been cleared of people for safety reasons beforehand, so the area was devoid of people. Apart from, of course, the six people with guns currently either flying, running, or swinging through the air towards the huge clock tower that dominated London’s horizon. 

After a few short minutes of travelling, the two misfits, one soldier, one Talon agent and two former Overwatch agents finally arrived at the tower and the team had begun to be debriefed.

“Now, we’re supposed to make sure no one gets ahold of this bomb.” Junkrat perked up almost instinctively at the word ‘bomb’. Mercy continued, oblivious to the Junker’s increased enthusiasm. “Winston gave me this Explosives Mechanism Disarmer Device,” She paused to hold up a small, thick, disklike object. “Which will attach to the bomb. To work, though, it will need time. All we have to do is protect the bomb until the EMDD has deactivated it. Everyone understand?” 

The others nodded, except for Junkrat, whose excitement had waned and was now giving a loud, disappointed groan. “Awwh, why can’t we blow it up? ’s a giant bomb!”

Mercy gave a sigh, wings drooping slightly as she explained tensely and tried her best to not use her ‘Explaining things to small children’ voice. 

“We can’t blow up this bomb because we’re trying to protect the citizens, not harm them. Now,” she continued briskly, not waiting for another one of Junkrat’s complaints, “since we all now know what we’re doing, let’s get to it! Everyone get ready for battle.”

As Mercy walked towards the bomb to plant the EMDD, heels clicking, Roadhog gave his small companion a comforting pat on the shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Y’ready?” He questioned, a cocky, crooked grin spread across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I apologise for the wait. Hopefully I'll get another chapter or even two done in the next two weeks.


	5. Round One, Fight!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha I'm terrible at naming things
> 
> I had to rewrite most of the chapter. In the original version they went to a cafe for lunch but I like this version better. 
> 
> As some of you may have seen, I recently did a character study ficlet on Roadhog which I posted under the title “Roadhog’s Musings”. The thing is after writing it I realised the personality for Roadhog in this fic is half fanon, half canon. So, to fix this I will just say their relationship has developed to the point where Roadhog is better at tolerating Junkrat’s random BS. Still not amazing at it, but a lot better.
> 
> And I just want to say before we dive in, thank you for all the positive feedback! It's really helped to keep me motivated and it makes my day whenever I read it. Sometimes I show it to my friends because it just makes me so happy and I'm apparently a bloody dork who does that.

Junkrat let out a peal of borderline psychopathic laughter as he pressed the button on the detonator in hand with a click. The concussion mine he’d set up exploded, taking the unlucky foe that had decided to pass under the Alderworth Hotel’s arch, as well as a fair-sized chunk of wall with it. 

The battle was in full swing, enemies attacking from every entrance. Junkrat had taken to defending the back entrance, gunpower-coated hair ablaze as he took out enemies with enough explosions and manic laughter to worry some of his teammates.

He tossed out a fresh mine to replace the one he’d detonated, the flat surface automatically magnetising itself to the crater on the wall. A volley of bombs fired from his gun, bouncing off the ground and walls of the arch to impact the enemies that approached him. The currently smouldering lunatic let out a few mad giggles, twitching with laughter before giving a sarcastic salute at the remains of the mercenaries. “BOMB voyage!” 

“Does he always do this?” Mercy leaned over to Roadhog, murmuring so the maniac in question couldn’t hear her. The large man nodded, causing Mercy to groan, lightly smacking her forehead with the gloved heel of her palm. 

The madman continued his laughter, lobbing more grenades down the street he defended. “Try this on for size, ya bloody bastards! Hahahahahaha!” Pulling back the gearstick as he reloaded the gun, he slapped a fresh carton of bombs into the cobbled-together launcher and shot off another few rounds. 

“Say what you want, Mercy, but he’s great at vhat he does.” Reinhardt, shield defending the two of them from incoming fire, leaned towards the battlefield medic. His grin was masked by the helm he wore. The blonde-haired angel sighed. “Yes, he is doing better than I would have expected.”

The laughter of the blonde bomber filled the streets of King’s Row, his ash-covered face twisted into a crazed grin. “Come on, ya little piss-stains! Fight me!” He launched another round of explosives, running up to the last opponent left to punch him almost mockingly in the face. Before he could land a hit, though, the merc dropped dead in front of him. 

Junkrat growled, leaning over and flipping the body onto it’s side so he could clearly see a bullet hole straight through the corpse’s temple. “Oi! That was my kill!” He yelled sharply, turning around to see a blue woman on a nearby rooftop, standing with her sniper rifle’s scope firmly pressed to her eye. The weapon’s barrel was clearly aimed at where the man had been.

Grumbling, Junkrat fired another round of projectiles and reloaded the grenade magazine. The few stray enemies that snuck past his onslaught were either gunned down by Widowmaker, or exploded by one of the armoured woman’s rockets.

As more enemies fell, explosions punctuating the air and rubble being thrown up by stray explosives, Junkrat’s manic grin returned. Before he knew it, though, there were no more foes to face. The air was still for a moment while the team braced themselves for another wave of enemies that never came. 

But nothing happened. 

“Is that it?” Mercy mused, loud enough for everyone except the sniper to hear. 

More nothing happened.

“Think so. We musta killed ‘em all, ‘ey ‘Hog?” Junkrat called back to his companion, who agreed with a harsh grunt. 

After several more moments of uneasy silence, a loud beep came from the EMDD. “It’s done! The bomb is disarmed.” Mercy clapped her hands softly in celebration. “Good job team!” 

Reinhardt gave a cheer, lifting his hammer up high triumphantly. “Huah! Ve did it!” The large German yelled. 

“You can all head off now, but Reinhardt, could you help me dispose of the bomb properly?” Mercy turned to the armoured man, face calm and expressionless aside from the gentlest of smiles.

~~~~~~~~~~

The walk back from the battlefield was… interesting. One of their teammates, a stern woman with skin the colour of milk chocolate, had tried to strike up a friendly conversation with the two Junkers.

“So, you’re criminals... What’s up with that?”

Roadhog snorted at the abrupt question, as if laughing at the social awkwardness of it. Junkrat, on the other hand, looked mildly annoyed. “Yeah, we’re criminals, what’s it to ya?”

She gave a forced cough into her hand, perhaps to buy herself time to think of a response while still seeming quick-witted. “I only ask because we’re probably going to work together in the future. So why?”

The more vocal of the two Junkers shrugged. “Why not? ‘S fun. ‘Sides, having stuff is nicer than not having stuff.”

She paused, trying to come up with a response that would not offend the rather volatile maniac. “I… Suppose so, but it’s best for everyone not to take someone else’s belongings.”

Junkrat made an odd sound of annoyance and hatred. “Screw ‘em, what’d any of ‘em ever do f’me?”

Once again, she tried to edge around the Junker’s words. “I,” she cleared her throat, “don’t think I caught your name?” 

“Junkrat,” he grinned, offering a metallic hand to shake mid-stride

The armoured woman accepted the friendly gesture. “I assume Junkrat isn’t your real name?”

He blinked, thoroughly thinking over her words before suddenly jolting into action. “Roight. The name’s Jamison. Jamison Fawkes.” 

“Fareeha Amari, but on the battlefield I am Pharah, soldier of the skies,” she added with a grin, clanging one metal-clad arm to her chest in a salute. 

The rest of their conversation passed rather smoothly, with the occasional hiccup. Not much was really known about the lives of Junkers by outsiders, after all, and Fareeha proved to be very curious. 

“What’s it like, having only two limbs?” The armoured rocketeer idly questioned.

Junkrat pouted, crossing his arms in upset. “Well the worst bit ‘bout losing both me right limbs is I can’t make the joke about being ‘all right now’,” he grumbled.

Fareeha chuckled, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “Well, now you can make a joke about not being able to make the joke.”

The Junker perked up, grinning suddenly. “Hey, yeah! I could say somethin’ like ‘Well, I’d say I’m all right now but I’m not.’ Would that fly over their heads, though?”

Once again, the armoured woman laughed at his joke, allowing her mirthful smile to drop from her face before asking another question.

“You could get better prosthetics, you know. They make more advanced ones than what you have.”

Junkrat grinned. “You kiddin’? These things are a part a’ me now. They’re mine, jus’ as much as me flesh an’ blood limbs are. Plus, Junkers like me don’t need fancy schmancy tech, and I don’t trust it anyways.”

By the time they’d reached the hotel, Junkrat’s throat was somewhat sore from his constant babbling. He may be a chatterbox with the need to put his opinion in every conversation at the best of times, but even he wasn’t used to talking for so long. Roadhog, after all, wasn’t the greatest conversationalist.

The Junkers saw off the agents who were staying in Tracer’s Manor, and headed up the hotel stairs with the blue woman who had stolen Junkrat’s earlier kill. 

He was still a little pissed about that, truth be told. He tended to remember things that upset him more easily, so the memory had latched onto his mind and was currently replaying itself in his head. Her smug, gloating smile had just been the icing on the shit cake. 

Just then, Roadhog’s large, meaty hand set itself on his shoulder, turning his body away from walking into the end of the corridor with a flick of the wrist. Junkrat snapped out of his reverie, jolting slightly and letting out an odd little “Bueh?” of surprise. 

The huge man leant over, bringing his masked muzzle down closer to Junkrat’s eye level. “Mmm?” he hummed. 

_‘Let it go, Jamie. For the sake of the job. C’mon. We’re a team, she was supposed to watch me back. ‘S okay. Ya gettin’ too mad over it.’_

He took a deep breath in and out before responding. “Yeah, ‘m good. Let’s keep goin’,” he said with a weak grin. With that, they continued onwards to their room. 

Honestly, sometimes Junkrat could be pretty petty, and he himself knew it.

~~~~~~~~~~

After a quick post-fight shower to wash off the sweat and grime that had caked itself in the cracks of the two Junker’s respective skins, they set out to find someplace to visit for lunch, per Junkrat’s suggestion. After a battle like that, it would be a nice treat for Roadhog to not have to cook, Junkrat reasoned.

So, they’d gotten dressed up in one of their nicest sets of warm clothing and found a cozy little hole-in-the-wall café for an early lunch. 

Junkrat took a sip from his glass of ginger ale. The brownish, fizzy liquid tingled in his throat, warming it as he gulped it down. 

“This stuff’s better than back home. ‘S already too bloody hot there, but here? Perfect for warmin’ up the ol’ gut.”

Roadhog simply gave a nod of reply, his face obscured by his usual pig mask. His disguise was simple, but effective. It had a scarf to hide part of his infamous mask, a large hooded jumper that somehow contained his bulging muscles and stomach, and loose-fitting jeans.

Junkrat, in turn, wore clothing that covered the parts of himself that would make him stand out. A flap-eared beanie nestled proudly over his patchy hair. Thick, baggy grey trackpants almost covered his booted foot and pegleg’s end, but did little for hiding his odd gait. The particularly lovely olive green turtleneck Roadhog had stole sat snugly over his torso, keeping him warm in the London rain.

The younger Junker set down the glass with a gentle clink. “When d’you think our meals’re gonna be ready?” He scratched at his cheekbone with a black-painted nail. 

At Roadhog’s shrug, Junkrat groaned. “Bloody ‘ell, I just want a meal. Is’at too much ta ask? No! This’s takin’ too long!”

Roadhog held up four of his thick fingers with a sigh from his nose. 

“Bullshit, it hasn’t only been four minutes. ‘S been a friggin eternity.” He crossed his arms with a pout and an exaggerated, overdramatic sigh. “I jus’ want me damn food, ‘s cold and I’m hungry.” 

Roadhog simply nodded along as Junkrat complained about the actually quite reasonable wait time. When he mentioned the cold, the huge boar of a man began tugging at his scarf.

Junkrat’s eyebrows hiked up a little in surprise. “‘Hog, I’m awlright. Keep the scarf, ya need it more than lil’ ol’ _mwah_ ,” he grinned playfully, giving an exaggerated flourish of the hand at the last word. Roadhog chuckled softly, shoulders twitching ever so slightly.

Surprise filled Junkrat at the sound. “Mate… I dunno if I ever heard ya laugh before. I… Like it, ya know? It’s, ahh…” Junkrat’s brain flatlined for several moments, the word he was looking for eluding his mind. “Nevamind, I’ll finish it later, looks like our tucker’s on the way.”

Just as Junkrat had said, a waitress with their meals in either hand was making her way from the kitchen towards the two Junkers. As she reached the table, a bowl of soup was set before Junkrat and a large slab of cake before Roadhog. A serving of chips was set in the center of the table, for the two of them to share.

There was little talking while they ate. Junkrat was too busy shoving as many hot chips and spoonfuls of soup down his gullet to talk, and Roadhog wasn’t much for conversation anyway. His scarf hid his mouth from view, protecting whatever lay beneath Roadhog’s infamous mask of his as he ate. 

Junkrat glanced from his meal, trying to spot some of Roadhog’s face. His mask, as usual, obscured his eyes and nose from view, but the thick scarf hid the rest. He fed himself through the tiny gap, reaching his fork down over the scarf with enough care to not stain the wool. 

_‘Wonder what he looks like under all that… Prolly got some scars or somethin’. Why else would he wear a mask? He’s gotta be hiding something, right? Hm…’_

Junkrat, being the fast eater he was, ate his fill before Roadhog had finished his and was now fidgeting in his chair. His thin fingers danced along the tabletop rhythmically, tapping out odd little tunes as soon as they popped into his head. The jarring clang of his metallic hand and the dull sound of his bony fingers tapping played out an interesting song together. 

Roadhog gave a grunt of annoyance at the tapping, so Junkrat stopped his song. He sulked in his chair for several moments, hiccuping occasionally as Roadhog finished eating. With one more hiccup, he left his chair to wander absentmindedly out of the café in search of excitement. 

The cold, London air stung his cheeks the moment he left. The horns of cars blared as they passed, and a rain had started to fall before he exited the building. The city was alive with things to do, and Junkrat was determined to find at least one of them.

Junkrat wandered along the street, trying to walk as naturally as possible and take in the sights and sounds of the city as he searched, hiccuping all the while. His arms clung to themselves, and his shoulders hunched in an attempt to curl up on himself. 

He really didn’t like rain.

Still, he pressed on. He walked through the streets, making his way away from the main roads. Rain began soaking his woolen clothes, weighing him down from the weight of the water and making him shiver as cold nibbled at his skin. The Junker ventured through the city, until he ended up walking along graffitied brick walls.

Eventually, he ended up in an alleyway with no exit. He scowled, and turned around to leave, only to see two silhouettes standing in the alleyway.

Junkrat squinted at the figures in an attempt to make out details, but the light from behind them was too bright. At least, until they began walking menacingly towards the Aussie. 

The two of them looked to be young men, around Jamison’s age, possibly even teenagers. They both had an odd forwards lean to their posture, and wore large hoodies. As they drew closer to Junkrat, he began to notice the two were roughly a head below him, if he stood upright. One brandished a switchblade as if to threaten the experienced grenadier.

“Hand over your wallet, or I’ll shank you,” the knife-wielder growled.

A cocky smirk filled Junkrat’s face, but his shivering form still tensed with anticipation. “Ya think ya can scare me with that dinky lil’ toy?” At this point the two of them were close enough to completely block off the end of the small alley, as well as any chances of avoiding a fight. 

But running from a fight wasn’t Junkrat’s style. Unless he’d likely die, of course.

“Yeah, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll give us your money.”

Junkrat shrugged. “Don’t got any money right now.” Despite his defiant and aggressive disposition, beneath the outraged _‘I could kill you both very easily’_ his brain was currently screaming, a sense of fear lingered. 

Many men braver than he in the Wasteland liked to proudly boast that they didn’t feel any fear, but they weren’t as twig-thin as Junkrat and likely not as easily breakable. Fear was the way of the Wasteland, and what had kept him alive time and time again. He wasn’t afraid to admit it, at least out of battle. 

So what if he didn’t have Roadhog here? He’d be fine taking the two of them out alone. He’d killed far more dangerous people unaided before, and he could kill them unaided again. All he needed was his trusty grenade launcher.

The kid not holding the knife hesitated slightly at Junkrat’s fearless display, before his eyebrows set low over his eyes. Maybe it was something in the Junker’s tensed, alert stance or wide, frightened eyes, but the thief called his bluff. “Bullshit, you look terrified. Give us the money.”

The Junker’s eyes narrowed as his hand flew to his satchel, ready and raring to fight. He grabbed at his grenade launcher before realising that he’d left it back at the hotel, along with his bombs and RIP-tire. All he had on him was a small Swiss army knife that he kept with him at all times, one with a seldom-used knife attachment.

Army knives were surprisingly useful in the Australian Wasteland.

Silently cursing his horrid luck, Junkrat drew the small knife from his satchel. He flicked out the blade and took on a battle stance that probably looked more pathetic than threatening, what with his odd posture and his shivering from the rain. “You wanna go? I’ll take ya on, ya wankers. Let’s go!”

Junkrat wasn’t entirely sure what happened next. One moment, the kid with the knife was lunging at him, blade aimed at his gut. The next moment, he jerked backwards violently, yanked by some unseen force several meters away from Junkrat.

A loud stomp, more like a small boom, punctuated the air. Behind the other kid, Junkrat could see the knife wielder being held aloft by the nape of his jumper, thrashing wildly and yelling with indignation as he struggled to get free.

A smack from a huge hand silenced Junkrat’s attacker’s complaints. He trembled slightly, hanging from the other hand that held him up. 

The blonde Junker didn’t think he’d been so glad to see Roadhog in his life. “Mate, am I glad ta see ya! Ya saved my guts, Roadie.” 

The attacker that was currently not hanging from one of Roadhog’s huge hands turned around to look back at Junkrat, face full of panic and terror. “You know that guy?”

Junkrat gave a proud grin, walking towards his friend. “Sure do! This ‘ere’s Roadhog, scourge of the Aussie Wasteland. Ain’t that right big guy?” He added with an elbow to his thick arm.

Roadhog grunted in agreement.

“Now, you lot just skedaddle and me big friend ‘ere won’t break ya bones.”

A disappointed groan rose from Roadhog at his words. He gave a frustrated snort, setting down the thief he held grumpily. 

Junkrat gave a sigh out of his nose, rubbing at his face as he considered. “Awlright, if they don’t leave in five secs then you can start snappin’ legs.” 

The huge bear of a man gave a deep, menacing laugh. He ground one fist into the other, cracking his knuckles in a carefully practiced display of hostility as he adjusted his position to be towering threateningly over Junkrat. Every move he made was a carefully calculated threat display, done only to further his already terrifying image. 

The two thieves, looking like they were about to piss themselves with terror, sprinted past the two of them and out of sight. The moment they were gone, Junkrat looked up at Roadhog with a grin, only to get a frustrated snort in return.

“What?”

Roadhog snorted again, rumbling out a few words. “You wandered.”

It suddenly dawned on Junkrat that he’d wandered off in the middle of lunch with Roadhog and into a dangerous alleyway, where he could have been seriously injured. “...Whoops?”

Roadhog facepalmed. “Don’t do that again,” he angrily grumbled. 

Junkrat nodded. “Okay. I’ll be on me best behaviour. Sorry.”

With a satisfied nod from the huge man, they began to walk back to their hotel. Probably. Junkrat wasn’t exactly sure where they were going, but it was probably back to the hotel. Either way, he struggled to walk through his uncomfortably waterlogged clothes. At least the rain had stopped, giving him a chance to dry in the cold, bitter wind.

A long moment passed with only the pitter-patter of raindrops to fill the quiet between them. _‘I wonder what woulda happened if ‘Hog didn’t show up?’_ He shivered slightly, not just from the cold clothing he wore. _‘...Is he mad at me for wandering? And how’d he get to me in time, anyway? He was still eating when I wandered off, I think.’_

After a small mental pause, Junkrat broke the silence with a tentative question. “‘Ey ‘Hog?”

Roadhog glanced down at Junkrat with a “Hmm?”

“How’d ya find me?”

He shrugged. “Followed you.”

“Followed me from the café? After you finished?”

Roadhog nodded in confirmation. 

“Ah.”

Silence filled the air once more, punctuated only with precipitation. 

Junkrat scratched at the nape of his neck with his black-nailed hand. “Ya, ahhm... Ya saved me hide right in the nick’a time. Thanks, Roadhog.”

The giant man looked over at him with surprise, stopping in his tracks completely. He seemed to study Junkrat for a moment, mask fixed on the younger Junker’s face. After several moments of Roadhog’s quiet staring contest with Junkrat’s face, he gave a sigh and a small nod. Roadhog lazily cupped a massive hand over Junkrat’s head and looked back up as he began making his way down the street once more.

 _‘...?’_ Junkrat’s mind buzzed with confusion, frantically trying to figure out what had just happened. _‘Why’s his hand on my head? Why’d he just... nod? Why’d he look at me like that? He's acting a bit weird, is he okay?’_

“You feelin’ awlright, ‘Hog?”

Roadhog simply nodded.

Junkrat hesitantly turned back to where they had been facing, continuing to make his way back to the hotel with Roadhog. His thoughts whirled in his head for much of the journey, wondering if his companion was truly alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also how the shit does this chapter have so many goddamn words? I was struggling to write at 1,600 and now... How? How does this just happen, me?
> 
> I’m not sure if I should change the title/description of the story. After all the development the plot's been through they no longer fit the story, but I honestly can’t think of anything better and I like how it is right now. What should I do?
> 
> (Also I probably won't be able to work on this story a whole lot over the next few weeks... I have to make a cosplay for an upcoming convention and school's back so I have to try to juggle everything)


	6. Shade, Stone and Sea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how often I'll be able to work on this fic for the next 5-6 weeks. Life stuff bitchslapped me once again but I really enjoy writing this so I'll see what happens.

“Bloody hip exercises.” Junkrat groaned. 

He was leant against a wall, using his left elbow and the stump of what used to be an elbow to hold himself up. What little was left of his right leg was currently twisting every which way, the joints stretching out and making small pops and cracks occasionally. The man’s forehead rested against the wall, his amber eyes screwed shut. 

He continued to exercise his hip, checking with a final stretch that the muscles didn’t feel cramped before giving a sigh and hopping over to the couch. Junkrat began to strap his prosthesis back onto his arm stump. The orange, metallic appendage fitted easily around the residual limb, the fingers beginning to flex as nerves sent their signals through the specialised socket coating and to the tiny computer in the arm. 

Junkrat flexed his mechanical fingers a few times, checking to make sure they were in working order before moving on to attaching his leg. He fastened the straps, attaching the pegleg and shifting it around until it was comfortable. 

He got to his bandaged foot, taking a few steps forwards to test if everything was comfortable. After a lap of the room, he grinned, standing upright and stretching his back out after hunching over to walk. “There we go. Oi Roadhog!” He yelled, turning towards the bedroom. “You all ready?”

 

The sound of trampling rang out through the small building as the huge man emerged from his room, ducking so only his white ponytail brushed the top of the door frame. He gave Junkrat a nod, holding up their tiny, shared suitcase. 

“Alright, gimme a sec. I gotta brush me teeth,” He flashed his not-so-pearly whites and wandered towards the bathroom to scrub the fuzzy feeling off of his teeth. After a minute or two of aggressive dental care, Junkrat was ready to roll. 

Junkrat took the toothpaste tube and toothbrush in his hand, hobbling off to meet his companion at the door. 

“Roight. Let’s head out.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The docks were bustling with people of all kinds. Tourists, young families, even the crews of moored boats, but to Junkrat they all looked the same. None of them looked like home.

They all wore the same boring store-bought clothes or uniforms, and carried the same luggage. None were missing a limb or had scars, none hid their face behind a helm or mask. None had any of the weird symptoms of long-term radiation exposure he was used to. He’d gotten a taste of individuality again, and now he had to go back to generic brand humanity.

Of course, Junkrat and Roadhog weren’t exactly shining examples of individualism at that moment. They had decided to wear the same disguises they had in the coffee shop. Once Roadhog had dried them out, of course.

Junkrat flashed a wide grin up at his still-masked companion, gold tooth glimmering in the weak sunlight. “C’mon mate, let’s go find our boat. Finally, we’re gettin’ off ‘a this bloody freezing island.” 

The blonde began to make his way through the crowd, taking slow, laboured steps. His pegleg, instead of aiding him as usual, hindered his navigation through the mass of people. Unable to swing along its joint as it normally did, the prosthetic leg was about as useful as a band-aid was for a cannonball wound. 

He growled in frustration at his slow progress. _‘There’s got to be a better way to do this, right?’_ He stood upright, grabbing his chin thoughtfully with a black-nailed hand. _‘Wouldn’t be having this trouble if we were allowed on planes,’_ he mused to himself. “Hey Roadhog?” 

The goliath of a man looked down at his frustrated friend, notcing the predicament he was in. “Need a hand?”

A shit-eating grin spread over the mischievous Junker’s face. “A leg would be more useful, don’tcha think?” He joked, raising his pegleg for emphasis. Roadhog just shook his head disappointedly, chuckling behind his mask at the jest.

“But I wouldn’t say no ta help right now,” Junkrat added, giving his friend a sheepish smile.

At that, Roadhog picked up his friend by the waist. He gingerly rested Junkrat on his broad shoulders, carefully curling a huge fist around the wiry man’s lower legs to support him. His other hand wrapped around half the width of the suitcase. “Ta.”

A few moments of walking passed before a horrible idea wormed its way into Junkrat’s head. He gave a sly grin, nudging Roadhog’s shoulder with a fist in much the same way someone would nudge with an elbow. “Ey ‘Hog, thanks for the…” He paused as his grin widened. “ _Piggy_ back ride,” he crowed, somehow managing to wait until Roadhog groaned at the bad joke before bursting out into peals of laughter.

“Oh, I’m on fire today!” He exclaimed, wiping at nonexistent tears from his eyes. Junkrat would have thought Roadhog was disappointed in him, if it weren’t for his suppressed laughter.

Calming down from his laughing fit, Junkrat looked out over the docks, squinting in the sunlight. He reached a hand into his satchel, fumbling through its contents in search of his communicator. Normally, his satchel would hang at his waist, but Roadhog had said it would make them more conspicuous, so he had slung it over his shoulder instead.

After a few seconds of searching, Junkrat retrieved the device. He held ot flat in his palm, switching it on and fiddling with the buttons until a small holographic display projected from the top of the small, silvery disk. 

“Roight, we’re supposed to board…” He glanced up from the hologram, amber eyes darting over the boats in the harbour. They landed on a small boat docked at the end of the pier. “That boat, I think,” he said, jabbing a black-nailed finger towards the tiny vessel, slipping his communicator back into his satchel.

Roadhog plodded off towards the cruiser, gently parting the crowd with his bulky frame, loud footsteps and broad hands. The metallic clank of his steel-capped boots against the stone pavers changed to the tinny scrape of metal on concrete as he crossed over onto the jetty. Lifting his thick, tree trunk-like arms over his head, Roadhog picked up the Junker seated on his broad shoulders and gently lowered him to the ground.

As Roadhog’s large, strong hands held him once more, Junkrat found himself relaxing into his partner’s surprisingly gentle yet firm grip. Just from that grip, it was obvious how finely-tuned Roadhog’s control of his own strength was, the blonde noted. 

And before the lean Junker knew it, he was standing on the jetty past the crowds of people. A small stretch of concrete was the only thing between him, Roadhog, and the boat they were to board. 

Hesitantly, Junkrat began to hobble across the jetty, picking up speed as he became more comfortable with the floating platform. 

He hoisted himself over the edge, jumping into the cruiser boot-first and examining his new surroundings. “Oi Roadhog, ya think your huge ass’ll be alright seatwise?” He jokingly asked.

The huge man gave the blonde a thumbs up, plopping his rear end down on the soft, padded bench at the helm. Junkrat slipped into the space beside him, one arm dangling over the side of the craft as he looked at the console of the boat, one bushy eyebrow hiked up in confusion. 

“So, uh… what now?”

~~~~~~~~~~

After a minute of searching, they’d found the watercraft’s ‘on’ switch. The console had blinked alive, explaining that the boat that had been loaned to them was one of the self-driving automatic models. All they needed to do was set a destination in the GPS.

Junkrat was fascinated by the synthetic voices coming from the speaker beside the small screen. The Junker fiddled around on the small touch screen (under Roadhog’s supervision, of course), playing around with the different pre-recorded messages just to hear the robotic monotones.

Roadhog had warned him not to touch the various physical buttons and levers affixed to the console. Even though the craft was autonomous, it would be a death wish to not include more traditional controls in case of malfunction, no matter how unlikely that was.

Aside from the controls, the boat was equipped with just about every piece of safety equipment they could possibly need. Flares, emergency supplies, survival handbooks and a first aid kit as well as enough rations to last the day-long trip. There was even a life jacket made to fit Roadhog’s massive dimensions, somehow. 

After he’d fiddled around in the menus for a few minutes, Junkrat discovered the cruiser’s GPS map. According to the navigation system, they would make their trip in about eight hours. Fast as the boat was, it still had to travel the sea route. 

Junkrat strode over to one of the seats, already bored of the vessel’s computer, and plonked himself down on the cushioned shelf. 

“Of all bloody places, we’re sent to friggin’ Numbani.” Junkrat pouted, sulking in his newly-aquired seat. The only reply to his words was supplied by the gentle hum of the boat’s engine. With nothing but the sound of water and mechanics to listen to, Junkrat’s mind began to meander off to more interesting thoughts. 

_‘Blue… Blue… More blue… Bloody hell, everything here’s blue. Except for the boat. If that was blue too I might just go crazy.’_ He absentmindedly scratched at a bump on his shoulder with a nail, snickering at the thought. 

_‘Wonder why it’s all blue? Why not some other colour? Probly some complicated science reason or something. Roadhog might know, he’s smart.’_

“Oi ‘Hog?” 

The man in question didn’t look up from his knitting, giving a hum in reply.

“Why’s the sky blue?”

Roadhog leant back against his seat, giving a gentle breath out as he mused. “The sun’s light makes it look blue,” he answered in a deep murmur. 

“Yeah, but why? Why’s that make it look blue?” Junkrat curiously asked, twisting his mismatched hands between themselves restlessly.

“It’s the colour of space, but brighter.” 

“Oh. So y’mean the sun makes it look brighter, or…?” Junkrat looked up at the giant glowing ball of gas in question, shading his eyes so they didn’t burn from the harsh light. They’d long since left the cloud cover over their British port, and were in noticeably warmer waters already.

The huge knitter nodded in reply, not making any move to look up at him.

Junkrat glanced down from the sun to look at Roadhog, beaming as he did. “That’s cool as, mate. How d’you know that?”

Roadhog grunted, pausing his craft and thinking briefly before giving him an answer. “School.”

A disgusted growl left Junkrat in an accurate impression of Roadhog. “Wish I went to school. Maybe I’d know how to read, then.”

Silence filled the air briefly as Roadhog seemed to mull something over. After a while that felt like an eternity of nothing, the huge man gently rested his knitting on the little bit of seat beside him, got up, and approached Junkrat to stare him in the eyes. At least, the best he could with a gas mask over his face. “Do you want to know?”

“‘Course I do!” Junkrat replied enthusiastically, before bitterly adding “I’d be more useful, at least,” with a glance at the ground.

Roadhog grunted. Junkrat found a thick knuckle pushing under his chin and bringing his gaze back up to Roadhog’s unblinking, masked stare. “You’re useful,” he forcefully stated, as if nothing were more true in the world. “I’ll teach you.”

The smaller Junker gulped slightly at Roadhog’s sudden shift of personality. _‘What’s gotten into you, ‘Hog?’_ “O-okay.”

With a satisfied nod, Roadhog headed back to his seat to resume his knitting. 

After not even a full minute of silence, another of Junkrat’s infamous questions was spewing from his mouth again.

“What’re ya making?”

Roadhog gave a small sigh at the question and shrugged, not moving his mask’s glass-covered eyeholes off of the needles in his hands as he started a fresh row. 

A look of confusion was thrown towards Roadhog as Junkrat gave a halfhearted, confused chuckle. “Eheh, what d’you mean, ‘Hog?”

Roadhog gave a gentle sound of amusement, focused on his craft as he replied in his deep rumble. “I'm just knitting.”

“For fun?” 

The masked man nodded, not breaking his rhythm at all.

As the conversation lulled again, Junkrat laid back longways on his seat to bask in the sun’s light, but not long after he became fascinated with the hem of his sweater. Fixated on the activity, he watched the soft material move as he stretched it every which way. 

Junkrat gave a chuckle. “Clothes are weird,” he proclaimed to Roadhog as he continued to play with his clothes. The huge Junker just gave an amused chuff in reply.

~~~~~~~~~~

Apparently, Junkrat got easily seasick.

They had found out when he, in an attempt to get a meal, started staggering around on his mismatched legs, grabbing at the air desperately for support. Roadhog had rushed over to hold him still, quickly abandoning his knitting to stabilize his companion.

According to Roadhog’s fancy-schmancy twelfth grade education it was probably a mix of heat stroke, hunger, and simply not being used to the sensation of being on a boat. According to Junkrat’s non-existent PhD, it was the sun’s punishment to him for enjoying the pleasant day at sea.

Once Junkrat’s queasiness had half-calmed down, Junkrat found himself once again carried to a bed in the big, strong arms of Roadhog. Bridal style, as always. 

_‘This is the third time this has happened in three days. I must be setting some sort of record. ‘Most times carried by best friend,’ perhaps?’_ Junkrat grinned at the self-deprecating joke.

As they moved below decks to the small quarters, the younger of the two began protesting Roadhog’s manhandling. 

“I can walk for myself, ‘Hog. Ya don’t have ta carry me,” Junkrat tried to bargain, legs kicking slightly.

He just snorted in reply, his mask betraying no emotion. 

“I can! I definitely won’t get seasick again. Me belly’s not weak, ya dumbass!” His arms began to flail as well, until Roadhog gave a low, aggravated rumble.

Junkrat grumbled, but lay limp after that, letting Roadhog carry him in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat looked around the landscape. The familiar dusty oranges of the Outback, dotted with bits of rubble and twisted metal and tufts of sickly grass, was all he could see in any direction. That, and Roadhog standing in front of him, facing out towards the endless desert. Everything felt smudged and weird.

“Oi ‘Hog, what’s on the list for today?” His words were odd coming out of his mouth, as if he’d said them but they were repeated in unison by the red earth itself. 

Without moving, Roadhog gave a low, menacing growl. “Nothing.”

Junkrat hesitated. Something was very wrong here. Roadhog wouldn’t growl at him for no good reason, right?

“‘Hog? Y’alright?”

The silence that filled the air threatened to choke him. It hung over their small but infinite world like a thick fog on a rare morning. 

After several moments, the goliath spoke. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving? Where’re we going?” Junkrat’s voice wavered, almost painful unease resting like a coiled snake in his belly. 

“Not you. Me. I found a new boss.”

Junkrat’s whole world froze. His heart almost felt as if it had stopped. Everything was still as his mind raced like a brumby running for its life from wild dogs. His chest hurt. His head felt light, and his stomach felt wrong. “Wh-what? Y’gotta be joking, right?” His speech grew more fevered and frantic as hot tears stung his cheeks. “This, this ain’t funny, mate. You can’t, can’t, can’t- This ain’t funny. Don’t, no, I’ll fix-” 

“Bye, freak.” Roadhog spat out, walking off without looking back. The fog that had appeared from nowhere engulfed him, shrouding his large figure in mist. Soon, he was gone.

Junkrat was alone.

It was just him, and sand, and desert grasses. 

“Roadhog…” Everything felt weird and wrong and too big or too small and nothing fit on his body the way it was supposed to. Roadhog had just left he probably hated him what had he done oh dear god he was sorry like nothing ever before he was sor-

Junkrat woke up, jolting up as if he’d been electrocuted. His heart pounded away in his chest like machine-gun fire and his chest felt as if a longsword had been driven through him. His breathing was erratic and too fast, but he couldn’t slow it down. It hurt to breathe, it hurt not to breathe. Everything around him felt like it was breaking down. Everything was weird and disjointed and he collapsed back down as all his energy was diverted towards breathing.

Until a large hand pressed a plastic bag to his mouth, forcing him to breathe into the bag. A deep, sonorous, gentle voice tried to calm him with a single word. “Breathe.”

Junkrat managed to breathe, his breath slowly returning to a less dangerous pace. After a solid minute of breathing, his single hand grabbed Roadhog’s wrist. He squeezed it tightly. He was there. It was just a dream, and Roadhog was here and helping him.

Junkrat grabbed at the plastic bag with a currently unattached hand. Roadhog, noticing his jabbing at the bag, removed it from his mouth. 

With a tenderness that was rare for him to speak with, the giant man gently reassured the frightened Junker. “It’s alright. Talk...?” He reached a huge hand cautiously towards him, as if he moved to offer physical comfort but decided against it. 

“It was horrible, ‘Hog,” he sniffled, wiping at an eye with his single hand. His body trembled from the exertion of speaking. “I- ‘Hog?”

Roadhog gave an inquisitive hum in reply, shifting so he was closer to Junkrat. 

“Promise you won’t leave. Promise,” he urgently pleaded.

Roadhog nodded.

The blonde sniffled once again, rubbing at the now slowly flowing stream of tears with the heel of his palm. “In my dream, you jus’...”

He trailed off as Roadhog turned around to grab for his satchel, pulling out a pill bottle and retrieving one of the little lifesavers to offer to him. 

Junkrat looked between Roadhog and the pill for a moment, his shivering beginning to abate. Roadhog had stepped in and helped. If he hadn’t, who knows what could have happened to Junkrat? Certainly nothing good.

Suddenly, Junkrat lunged forwards, wrapping Roadhog in a clumsy, unpracticed maneuver he believed was colloquially known as a ‘hug’. His still-damp face pressed against Roadhog’s shoulder as the larger man comfortingly wrapped his arms around him.

“Thanks, mate. I… I owe ya,” murmured Junkrat. 

He wasn’t sure what time it was when he had woken up, but by the time they went back above decks the sun had already risen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter was sort of a boring one. Also fun fact I wrote the nightmare sequence and subsequent panic attack a few hours after I'd had one so this is super accurate to reality. Don't worry, I'm fine now.
> 
> I also may be changing the name and description of this fic sometime before chapter 7. Not Gay just doesn't fit the plot anymore from thr first draft. Don't worry, I will put "Formerly known as Not Gay" in the description.


	7. Numbani

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD. I am SO SORRY for the several month wait! Life happened. I had cosplay and got lots of compliments and made lots of friends at the con and on Overwatch, and then assessments and tests happened at school and by the time the holidays rolled around I had no muse to write, plus I made new friends AND my anxiety was being really stupid. I finally got my Mercy gold gun so there's that :D! And also anxiety medication! Hooray!
> 
> Now that school's back I'm getting back on a steadier writing schedule, but now that I'm in Grade 11 I'm not sure how I'll manage everything at once. I will try my best to keep writing though!
> 
> This chapter was very tough to write.
> 
> Thank you for all the supportive, kind comments on my fic so far! They keep me driven to keep the story updating, despite everything going on. This chapter was very tough to write. I had to rework a majority of it once or twice? I don't even remember the original version but I think this is better than it would have been originally.
> 
> Oh, and if anyone wants to play Overwatch with me on Xbox, just send me a message and I'll send you my gamertag. It'll be nice to hang out with some lovely positive people!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and the many future updates that will be coming! I'm not dead, and I will continue to write as long as I have the energy, drive and time to do so!

Numbani. The shining jewel of the African coastline. A shining beacon of peace and hope for omnic and human alike. Truly a city of the future, employing some of the most advanced technology available for even the most menial of tasks so her inhabitants could live in luxury.

Junkrat hated it.

Everything in the city was too clean and tidy, even for a city. The buildings lined the streets too neatly, the plants stayed too perfectly tidy in their planters without so much as a leaf out of place. The lifeless, uniform, glass and steel designs of the city gave it an air of artificial manufacturedness, as if it were made by robots in a factory production line. And it was, in a way. 

The city had been designed by omnics, so that man and machine may live alongside one another in harmony. The locals often defended criticism of their city’s selfsame design with the argument that the architects had perfected the art of city design and planning down to a formula, so that every centimetre was perfect and everything worked together like a well-oiled machine. 

Critics and anti-omnic supporters claimed the architects had simply been too lazy to design buildings that looked good alongside one another while still being unique, so they could repeat the same formula of glass and steel over and over. Junkrat agreed with the critics.

He grumbled beneath his breath as he strode through the overly grandiose streets, never straying too far from his large companion. The dawn light was beginning to gleam gold and silver off the shiny tops of buildings. The denizens of Numbani were not yet up and about, still too early for even the omnic citizens to start their day, and so the walk to their rendezvous point was silent. Silent, save for their footsteps, the clunk and clank of Junkrat’s prosthetic leg and Roadhog’s chain, and the occasional comment between them.

“I can’t believe we gotta go here. Coulda gone anywhere else, but instead we end up in the bloody omnic capital of the bloody world. Prolly fulla suits, too.” He trailed off, muttering to himself under his breath, large nose wrinkled with distaste.

Roadhog said nothing, but did glance over at Junkrat as he complained about their assignment. “Why do we hafta be here? If we gotta be here, might as well scrap the place, right ‘Hog?” He urged, eyes more fiery than his hair. His fists were clenched and his face bore a huge, bloodthirsty grin.

The huge man beside him cocked his head to the side, seemingly considering for a moment. “If there’s time,” he allowed, prompting a triumphant fist-pump from Junkrat. “Now hurry.”

“Oi, I know, I know,” he playfully scolded, grinning. “Can’t be late when there’s work ta do.”

And with that, the two of them continued to walk through the city in silence, just enjoying the calm and quiet together. After walking for a while and stopping occasionally to check their communicators for directions, the two Australians finally arrived at their destination. In a small plaza just off of the road, a magne-lift carriage hovered, the precious cargo it carried secure within the tough, plastic storage unit.

Two others stood in the area, one of them leaping and gliding down towards them from one of the surrounding balconies. The illusion of golden wings flashed out of existence as her jets powered down and she came to a gentle stop. 

“Jamison! Roadhog!” She exclaimed, beaming and offering her hand for a handshake. “It is nice to see you again. Am I right in assuming we’ll be working together…?”

Roadhog took the offered hand, giving it a hearty shake and nodding in response to the woman’s question. Junkrat had instinctively flinched at the gesture, one hand pulling Roadhog’s huge arm towards himself and squeezing the thick wrist tightly.

Before he even acknowledged Mercy, Roadhog’s other hand was resting gently on top of Junkrat’s, easily engulfing the smaller fingers and palm. The glassy eyeholes of his mask were fixed solely on Junkrat, and no one else. The huge man hummed a gentle question to his companion.

Junkrat took a deep breath, then a toothy grin. “‘M fine, mate. Don’t worry. Force of habit.” 

The huge hand released Junkrat’s smaller one, but he didn’t let go of the wrist he could barely hold. It was more comforting, in a way.

Mercy watched the two with a warm smile on her face. “It is wonderful to know that our team will likely be able to work well together. Now, if my memory serves correct, we’re only waiting on Bastion.”

“Who’s…” Junkrat trailed off as Roadhog inhaled sharply, seemingly surprised to hear the name. The blonde man stared up at him, confusion knitting his brows together. _‘What is it, big guy? It couldn’t be an omnic, right? Using an omnic to fight a war against omnics isn’t very smart. But there was a Bastion unit back in King’s Row. Like the sort ‘Hog told me he’s fought. It’s probably not an omnic… Right?’_ “‘Hog? Y’alright?”

The huge man gave a laboured breath, struggling to control his breathing. Junkrat dug his fingertips into Roadhog’s wrist. “It’s prolly not an omnic, ‘Hog. Don’t worry. So Mercy,” he asked, in an attempt to distract Roadhog from getting mad. “Who’re our teamies?”

One of the aforementioned ‘Teamies’ had wandered over to join their conversation. She wore a snow coat that looked far too thick for the warmth of Numbani, complete with a fur-lined hood. A pair of snow boots and gloves covered her feet and hands, and a glass jar containing an odd, luminescent blue substance rested on her back. She looked as if she had just been ripped from the Himalayas and dumped unceremoniously into the heat of Africa.

Mercy glanced behind her, only to jump as she realised the girl was so close. “Mei! Oh, you startled me. These two are the odd pair I worked with last time I was just talking about. Mei, meet Junkrat and Roadhog. Junkrat and Roadhog, meet Mei.” The doctor gestured at Mei, as if presenting her to the two of them.

The girl in question wiped at her sweaty forehead with a fluffy sleeve, then crossed her arms. Mei’s eyes were with narrowed behind thick, black frames. “You two are just big thieving bullies,” she accused. “I hope you learn your lesson about your behaviour someday. Maybe you’ll learn some discipline today, with some luck.” And with that, the small Chinese girl turned and walked off to continue guarding the cargo. 

“Oh dear,” Mercy sighed. “That was Mei. You’ll have to excuse her for her rudeness, she’s a little upset at some of Winston’s decisions. She is, ah... right, though. Winston hired thieves and Talon agents, and several of the other agents aren’t exactly happy with his choice.” She took a deep breath, clenching one hand into a fist. “Still, I know we can work together to make the world a better place.”

Mercy blinked, the grim determination fading from her eyes as she caught herself. “I’m… getting off track. Let’s get to our places, people!” She gave the two Junkers a nervous smile and hurried off, eager to end the conversation.

“...Guess we’re waiting for this ‘Bastion’ fella to show up before we get debriefed, ‘ey ‘Hog?” Junkrat mumbled to his companion. Roadhog shrugged in reply.

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat’s teeth grit into a snarl, one hand curling into a fist. The other grabbed the grenade launcher that had been haphazardly dangling from his satchel’s strap. He tensed, ready to spring out of the way at any moment, and his elbows jutted out from him in such a way that the wiry man looked somewhat bigger than he really was.

Beside him, he could hear the comforting clink of Roadhog’s chain as he made a threatening growl in his deep tones.

Opposite them stood a very confused-looking omnic, their squarish, robotic head tilting to the side in confusion. A small, yellow bird sat on their shoulder, looking rather ruffled at the Junker’s threat display. The thick barrel of a machine gun gleamed in the morning light from its place on their back, a silent reminder of the deadly killer this machine was.

Well, a silent reminder until the omnic turned to their bird companion and gently, moving robotically, smoothed down his fluffed-up feathers with a steel hand.

Junkrat growled an animalistic, beastlike growl. “I ain’t workin’ with no bloody bolt-box.”

“Yes, you are.” Mercy, who had been on one of the balconies, flew over. “You are going to work with this omnic, and you will refrain from using racial slurs when you do so, as stated in the contract you signed. You can either abandon your job permanently, or work with an omnic.” The stern, sharp edge in her tone softened slightly. “Got it?” 

Junkrat had started to complain when a large hand gently grasped his shoulder, spinning him around to face his companion. The giant hunched over, giving him a quiet but questioning hum.

“I dunno what ta do, mate. The job pays well an’ the protection’s nice, but workin’ with an omnic?” He mumbled to the white-haired man, shielding his mouth from the others with a hand. “How do we know we can trust ‘im?”

Roadhog shrugged.

The grenadier pressed a knuckle to his sharp chin in thought, a heated debate starting in his head. 

_‘Think of all the money! And you don’t have to be on the run anymore! Least for a while.’_

_‘But what if the omnic turns on us and tries to kill us? That thing’s literally a killing machine!’_

_‘But the money…’_

_‘What if he tries to kill Roadhog?’_

He mentally recoiled at the thought, growling under his breath. He reached a hand out to grab at Roadhog’s forearm for comfort.

_‘I really don’t want that to happen, but... if we do this, we might be able to buy a hut out in the middle of nowhere eventually. Doesn’t have to be in the wasteland. We could live in green fields and afford clean water and farm clean, non-irradiated food, just the two of us.’_

In the end, his greed, a tool honed over years scavenging the Australian wastes, won out. 

“Mercy, promise me something,” 

The medic nodded. “Sure. What is it?”

Junkrat gave a huff, then looked up to meet her gaze with fierce intensity burning bright in his copper eyes. “That mecho can’t go anywhere near ‘Hog, got it? Try to keep it away from me too, but so help me if he’s got so much as a single injury from that thing, I will personally dismantle the bastard.”

However, Mercy’s response was not what he had expected.

“Jamison Fawkes, don’t you dare speak about omnics in that filthy way. They have feelings, just like us. How would you feel if you were insulted and mistreated just for being Australian? Sure, they have a few mechanical parts, but they’re more human than some of us. They are living, thinking, dreaming beings, and they deserve to be treated as such.”

She took a breath, smoothed back a curl of her long blonde hair that had fallen in front of her, and continued.

“I understand that human/omnic relations have been strained, and you of all people have plenty of reason to hate them. However, hatespeech is not tolerated in the workplace, even if it is a battlefield. So please, show Bastion and our other omnics some more respect or leave.”

During her speech, Junkrat had taken a hostile stance, fists white-knuckled and teeth bared, but the longer she spoke the more his fists loosened and his jaw relaxed. _‘Do I really want to do this? This is the opportunity of a lifetime. I could do so much with this. I only have to be agreeable around the team. I’m not too bad an actor, I’ve had enough experience with it that I can just pretend. Yeah, okay.’_

He cracked a hearty grin. “Gotcha, mate. I’ll try ta be nicer to the… omnics,” he said, biting back a slur.

Mercy looked pleasantly surprised at the response. “Oh! Okay then! Ah… I suppose we should go into the debriefing? Gather around everyone!” she called out.

After the rest of their team had gathered around, including a very grumpy Asian man Junkrat hadn’t noticed before, Mercy started to detail the mission.

“This here is Doomfist’s gauntlet.” She explained, gesturing towards the vehicle in the middle of the square. “It’s scheduled to be delivered to the Numbani Heritage Museum, but we’ve managed to get word from a reliable source that a criminal organization plan to steal it today. This particular organization is known for brutality towards omnics, so our mission is to intercept the attack and capture them for interrogation.”

Junkrat gave a small snort of contempt, but caught himself before he said anything racially insensitive. His snort had caught the attention of Mercy, who had glanced over. “That organization sounds awful,” he lied, hoping she fell for his ploy.

To Junkrat’s elation, Mercy turned back to the crowd and continued. “Keep the agents alive if you can, we need as many as possible. The more information we can get, the better. We need to know as much about this organization as possible, so we can fight them better in the future. Once you’ve captured someone, make sure they are restrained and gagged. Put them in, ah…” Mercy looked around, searching for a suitable spot. “The Chez Tajine lobby over there. Now everyone, pick an area to cover.”

The small crowd dispersed, leaving the Junkers to pick their spots. 

_‘Hmm… Where to-’_ A nudge on Junkrat’s side halted his train of thought. Looking up, he saw Roadhog fixing him with a stare through his mask. A low rumble reverberated through the air. 

“What’m I playin’ at? Tryna get us filthy rich, a-course! We’re safer here than we are on the run, right? I thought this was the best idea.”

With a nod, Roadhog straightened up and glanced around. He nudged Junkrat again, pointing a thick digit to the alley he’d chosen.

He grinned at his companion’s thoughtfulness. “Ah yeah, good spot for ya there. Thanks fa tellin’ me, mate. I’m thinkin’ over there-ish?” Junkrat jabbed a thumb at the road. 

Roadhog nodded, patted his shoulder comfortingly, then trampled off to his chosen alley, drawing his hook from its belt loop as he did. Junkrat found his eyes resting on his friend, gaze following the man for several steps until he tore his eyes away before anyone caught him in the act. 

_‘Heh, yeah… It’ll be fine if we split up. No one will go that way, and the bot can’t see him. Probably…’_ Junkrat hesitantly turned away, unease resting in his gut. Try as he might, he couldn’t help but worry about Roadhog. 

He turned back to the road, laying his trap nearby, to snare any unwanted guests trying to sneak up on him. Readying his bomb launcher, he took a deep breath. “Roight. Let’s do this, Jamison.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The counter-assault had gone well. After lying in wait for what felt like years, the enemy had finally shown up. In the ensuing battle, the enemy suffered a few casualties from overly rough handling, but enough of them were captured to serve their purpose. After the team had delivered the mercs to the agreed-upon drop-off zone, the two of them went to a small café Junkrat had spotted. After some well-deserved late lunch, The Junkers headed back to their hotel, checked in, and began to unwind.

Junkrat, ever the conversationalist, started to yammer on about whatever was on his mind as he went about digging out his jarmies from the messy, barely-fitting pile of luggage. His jarmies being a pair of clean undies and not much else. “Well, that sure was somethin’, ain’t it ‘Hog? Whooph, that was a rush! So much happening all at once, so little time to do it in. Fighting, that is. So, what’s the plan? What now?” 

He just shrugged, quiet as ever. “Up to you.”

“Telly, then. I’m exhausted. Y’feel like cookin’, or...?”

Roadhog shook his head. “Takeout,” he grunted.

“The hell’s takeout?”

After Roadhog had explained some of the finer points of takeout and how to order food from a delivery service, he pressed their hotel room phone into Junkrat’s hands. Then he remembered that Junkrat had never used a phone in his life, and taught him that, too.

Roadhog sat beside Junkrat as he called and ordered, encouraging and prompting him when he hesitated or mixed up his words. Once their meal had been successfully ordered, the larger Junker plodded off towards the bathroom to wash himself off. Junkrat plopped his rear down on the couch, grabbing the TV’s remote with a hand.

Flicking through the channels, he discovered a distinct lack of anything good on TV. He growled at the screen, beginning to flick through the channels faster and more aggressively. 

At that moment Roadhog wandered into the room in a pair of loose pants, hair down and still damp. He settled down on the couch beside his friend, resting a hand on Junkrat’s head. “What’s on?” He rumbled through his mask.

“Nothing. Nothing is on. Bloody ‘ell, nothin’s on in the arvo.” As he flicked to the next channel, Roadhog squeezed himself onto the couch beside him. With the larger man’s considerable girth, there was barely room on the couch for the both of them, but neither could find a reason to care. Besides, Junkrat found he rather liked the closeness with his best friend. 

Almost without thinking, Junkrat rested one arm on the back of the couch, his skin brushing Roadhog’s warm, slightly bumpy back. 

As he flicked through the channels, searching for something good with no luck, Junkrat gave up and flipped on the music channel. He gave a sigh of relief as the soothing guitar and violin played over the TV’s sound system.

“Ah, there we go! Much better! Well, better than the shit that was on TV. In other words, Numbani! Amirite, ‘Hog?” He grinned, lightly punching his arm. Roadhog chuckled at the jab at the city.

Junkrat grinned at the response. “What kinda name is Numbani anyway? What’s it mean? City of Unnecessary Cleanliness? City of Love and Tolerance and Sappiness?” He clenched his hands together, resting his cheek on them as he batted his eyelids. His companion chortled, the loud almost-bellow muffled by his mask. Roadhog tended to get loud when he laughed.

“Hey, ‘Hog? I got a riddle for ya. How do mechanics hear?” He grinned toothily, waiting for his chance to share the punchline.

Roadhog just shrugged.

Junkrat’s grin widened in victory, lighting his whole face up. “With their enginEARs.”

His companion laughed, resting his head in a hand. “That was bad,” he said, still laughing.

“Aw, c’mon, you know you loved it!” 

His hands lifted in surrender. “You got me,” he chuckled.

The smaller Junker grinned triumphantly once more, before the lapsed into a comfortable silence, just enjoying one another’s presence. The only sound was the gentle music emanating from the TV. He could feel Roadhog’s hand gently cupping his scalp, fingertips brushing his ear.

Junkrat glanced over at Roadhog. His current calm, serene demeanour was a far cry from the bloodthirsty killer Junkrat had fought alongside earlier. 

As Roadhog began playing with Junkrat’s thinning golden locks of hair between his fingers, the smaller Junker gave a sigh of relaxation. The sensation felt oddly… Nice, he decided. Nice was the right word. 

A sudden, sharp jab of pain from his back prompted Junkrat to hiss in discomfort. “Say ‘Hog, could’ja do me a favour?” He asked, but when he turned to the huge man paused in his ministrations, letting the hair between his huge fingers fall free. His bodyguard was fixing him with a stare, head cocked to the side. “Back pain?” he asked, sounding concerned in his own deep, rumbly way.

“Yeah. Could’ja, um…”

Without further prompting, Roadhog moved his hands so they rested on Junkrat’s narrow shoulders. At least, as much of them as would fit. “Lie down,” he said.

Obeying, Junkrat went to lay himself face-down on the couch, before realising how small the space he had to do so was. “Uh… Where do I…?”

Roadhog gently picked Junkrat up from beneath his arms, setting him down gently to stand on the floor. Moving his hands back to the couch, he folded the furniture into its bed configuration.

Soon, the two of them were on the bed, Junkrat lying face-down and Roadhog kneeling at his side. The bodyguard rested his hands on Junkrat’s side, feeling around for the most knotted areas. “Where’s it hurt?”

“Uh… Lower back, upper, shoulders… All over.”

As the huge fingers began to knead into his sore, knotted muscles, Junkrat gave a sigh of relief. The ache of his neck and back began to fade away as Roadhog’s fingers worked their magic. An appreciative moan slipped from Junkrat’s mouth, prompting his masseuse to chuckle quietly beneath the mask.

“Mmnnngh. Roadie, you’re real good at this,” the small man praised as a thumb was pressed into a particularly bad knot. A dopey, serene grin of satisfaction graced his lips at the special treatment. _‘I’ve got to be the luckiest rat in the world…’_

Soon, most of his aches and pains had melted away like butter under Roadhog’s skillful hands, leaving him to just enjoy the sensation of those large, warm hands caressing his shoulders and back. 

But before he knew it, the hands had left his torso and Roadhog stepped off the bed.

“Aww, that’s all?”

The huge man gave a low, soft chuckle beneath his mask and crawled back onto the bed, straddling him for better access to his back. He dug his thumbs into the meaty part of his companion’s shoulders, kneading what little flesh the wiry man had as if he were sculpting a masterpiece. “Mmn, how’re you so good at this ‘Hog?” Junkrat murmured, his voice soft and appreciative. 

Roadhog’s deep, sonorous tones filled the air as he answered with an audible grin. “Practice. Lots of it.” 

Suddenly, the calming music from the TV, gone unnoticed, faded out and was replaced by a sensual saxophone serenade. 

Roadhog drew back, growing unusually fidgety and flustered for someone who was usually so stoic. Junkrat, a light dusting of red covering his cheeks, cocked his head in confusion. Sure, the music was provocative, and the growing tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife, but what could have possibly caused the normally stony-faced bodyguard to dissolve into a nervous wreck? 

It wasn’t like Junkrat hadn’t been shocked either, but Roadhog’s reaction felt over-the-top, even by Junkrat’s standards.

“Y’alright, ‘Hog?”

Roadhog jolted slightly at the words. After a moment of what looked like hesitation, he nodded.

He frowned. “Y’don’t look so good, mate. Maybe ya should lie down?”

The very tense-looking man nodded. “See you tomorrow. G’night.”

“Wait, but-” It was too late. Roadhog had stepped out of the room. 

Junkrat sighed. _‘What’s gotten into him? I hope he’s okay.’_ With no idea how to address the elephant in the room, he decided to quickly clean up and head to bed. They could discuss it tomorrow.

After he’d showered and gently cleaned his residual limb, he slipped into the jarmies he’d grabbed earlier in the afternoon. Junkrat yawned as he wandered to his couch-bed, instinctively raising his arm stump to cover his mouth. 

_‘I guess I’ll take first guard shift since ‘Hog’s wandered off. I can wake him up when-’_ He cut his own thoughts off as he remembered where he was. _‘... Hotels are perfectly safe, right? Yeah, probably… Nothing to worry about.’_

The assurance that he was in a perfectly safe building several hundred metres tall was not quite enough to help him drift off once he had slipped into bed. Junkrat sat up awake for an hour, unable to sleep from an ingrained fear of nighttime assailants. After a heated internal debate, he went to Roadhog for assurance that they were safe. 

Once Junkrat had been comforted by his large companion, he went back to his own bed to sleep. But sleep still eluded him for a good while. Eventually, he fell into a restless slumber, mind cooking up bad dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful (genderfluid) girlfriend for helping beta this chapter! I am horrible at jokes and I apologise for my bad jokes. My girlfriend likes them so that’s good enough for me.
> 
> I'm a little out of practice so excuse any finesse this chapter lacks.
> 
> Also you know what screw writing accents I’m lazy and I don't wanna


	8. Odd Jobs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow a new chapter who would have ever guessed
> 
> School is getting really hard so I'll do what I can but I don't want to put any deadlines. Don't want to disappoint anyone. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Also, if you'd like to see any crappy sketches I've done for this story, leave a comment! I'll post some chapter relevant art in each/most chapters if enough people like the idea.
> 
> I really bucked down and got this finished off the last week! I'm very proud of myself. I'm going to try to keep this writing streak going as much as I can.
> 
> ~~~WARNING~~~
> 
> Minor gore is in the following chapter. There's very little detail, but if gore upsets you or you'd rather not read it please don't read the bolded, underlined passages.

Junkrat stood outside the small, neat and shiny bus stop. Per their orders, the Junkers were trying to keep a low profile as they travelled. Their normal clothes were packed away, disguises covering up any oddities about their appearances. Roadhog’s face was, as usual, hidden. He wore mirrored sunglasses and a surgical mask, covering up most of his face. A doodle of a pig snout in marker that they’d made adorned his mask.

The smaller man would normally be interested in what lay beneath his usual mask, but the din of the city was frighteningly overwhelming on the streets. Junkrat would have liked nothing better than to bury himself under Roadhog’s arm and stay safe and hidden from everything. 

But Roadhog had been oddly… aloof. Since his small bout of nerves the previous evening, he seemed to be avoiding contact with the small man. The small, reassuring arm squeezes and shoulder pets that Junkrat had come to know and love were nowhere to be seen, replaced instead by, from what he could tell, this Roadhog that stared right past him.

So instead of hiding in Roadhog’s generous belly, he instead shrunk in on himself, shoulders hunched and hands gripping the plastic cup of his bubble tea for what little comfort it provided. Cars sped by, engines roaring as they went. Footsteps, too many footsteps, filled the air. His chest ached with anxiety as the world went on loudly around him. 

“H… ‘Hog?” Junkrat’s voice was tentative and strained. The jarring difference between his usual, hyperactive brand of crazy and this odd, muted anxiety must have gotten past Roadhog’s new aloofness, because the man jerked his head around to Junkrat.

Roadhog’s masked eyes studied him for a moment, darting up and down to take in the smaller man’s panicked state. “What do you need?” 

Junkrat didn’t respond immediately, fidgeting with his cup as he tried to cope with everything. After several moments of repeatedly raising and lowering his arms, he slipped the cup into his satchel and grabbed hold of Roadhog’s wrist with both hands for comfort. He took a huge breath of air before replying with “...’s too much. Too loud ‘n too much.” His eyes fixed downwards, staring into the sidewalk.

After a few moments of no response, Junkrat felt himself being hoisted into the air and plopped down on Roadhog’s shoulders. His new height towered above most everything that had been overwhelmingly suffocating and claustrophobic before, able to protect him from anything. It wasn’t much, but…

He wrapped his arms around Roadhog’s neck, grinning and cuddling up to him in the biggest hug he could manage. “Thanks, mate.” The kind gesture and his new height really helped him feel calmer and safer.

“Anytime.”

...the caring gesture was enough to help him cope.

The two of them waited in silence, but a more comfortable one from what it had been.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Well this is taking bloody forever. Ready ta sit around for a few more hours, ‘Hog?”

They had finally made it to their boat. From the bus, they had boarded the tram and travelled to the docks. Now, they sat on the benches of their boat. Another of those automated models, by the looks of it. 

Roadhog chuckled, setting his knitting to the side. He’d already exchanged his sunnies and mask for his usual pig mask.

“Why aren’t we allowed on the planes anyway? That’s jus’ not fair. We had to travel so far!”

“Well, we’re well-known criminals. You’re famous for specialising in demolition, and people aren’t fond of criminal demolitionists on planes.”

Junkrat looked out to the sun shining on the water. “That’s kinda stupid. Why would I blow up a plane that I’m on? I’d be dead too.”

Roadhog just shrugged. “It’s happened before.”

The small man turned around, fixing him with a slack-jawed look. “Really? What sorta maniac would have done that?”

He shrugged. “There was a famous incident before we were born. A lot of people died.”

Frowning and brow creased, Junkrat turned back to the water. The gleam of the sun on the waves was fascinating. He’d seen it last time they were on a boat, but last time Roadhog didn’t give him anti-travel sickness pills before leaving. He couldn’t remember if he’d admired it back then anyway.

The water was bright and shiny as a blue jewel, and looked both solid and soft at the same time. Did ocean water feel different from normal water?

He leaned out over the edge, trailing his fingertips in the water as they jetted over the sea. The force of the salty ocean stung his fingertips, but it was bearable.

With a huge grin spreading over his face, he turned around to look back at Roadhog. “Look, Roadie, I’m doin’ the movie thing!”

“Roadie?” 

His smile fell a little at the questioning word. “What, don’t like the name?”

A huge hand rested on his patchy hair. “It’s great.” If he hadn’t been wearing a mask, Junkrat could swear he would have seen Roadhog’s smile.

Junkrat beamed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“So, uh… whatcha makin’?” Junkrat leant over from beside Roadhog, looking at his thick but nimble fingers weaving the wool between his knitting needles.

Roadhog, tilting his mask so he could just see Junkrat, twisted a new orange ball of wool from the bag at his side onto a needle. His huge fingers dwarfed the knitting supplies. “It’s a surprise.”

“Aww, ya can’t tell me?” He whined.

“Once it’s done,” Roadhog chuckled. “Do you want to ride on the front of the boat?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Why would I do that?” he asked curiously.

Pausing his knitting, Roadhog glanced over at the water. “It’s fun. You go over waves and it’s just... fun.”

“Have ya done it?” Junkrat looked genuinely curious.

The huge man leant back, tucking his knitting back into his bag and staring up at the sky. “When I was young. My... family used to go on holidays to the ocean when we had the money. We’d rent a big tinny and go out and take turns on the water with tubes tied to the back. They were these big floaty rings you’d sit in. Us kids waiting for a turn would sit up at the front. The… bow, it’s called. One time, we took turns trying to dislodge each other.” He gave a contented sigh. “Those were the days…”

Junkrat was sitting in rapt attention, quiet and still for once. “... Did lotsa people do that back then?”

He laughed. “Most people in Australia live by the sea, anyway. We usually love the water.”

“Do ya wanna do it again?” The question caught Roadhog off guard. “The tube thingies, I mean.”

Roadhog just stared at Junkrat in silence for a few moments. The fiery-haired man glanced away, beginning to fidget with nervousness. “Uhm… I’m gonna guess that’s a n-”

“Yes.”

Caught off guard, Junkrat looked back up to try to study Roadhog’s masked face. Somehow he forgot that he couldn’t see through his mask. “Yes?”

A huge hand gently patted Junkrat’s head. “I’d love to go again.” His tone had a warmth to it that he never used with anyone except Junkrat. Come to think of it, it was a tone he’d only heard him use in the past few months. When they’d first met, Junkrat would have never imagined Roadhog could speak with such warmth. 

Taking a brave, dramatic stance with one pegleg on the bench, Junkrat made a declaration. “Then I, Jamison Fawkes, promise to take you, ah… What’s ya name, mate? I don’t know if ya told me or nah…”

“Mako. Mako Rutledge.” Roadhog held out a huge palm, offering it to Junkrat. He took it with a laugh, shaking Mako’s gargantuan hand with both of his enthusiastically before posing again.

“I, Jamison Fawkes, promise to take you, Mako Rutledge, to the Aussie ocean on a holiday after we’re done with this job. Now, how do ya do that bow thingy you talked about?”

Several minutes and a few guiding words and gestures later, Junkrat was kneeling at the bow of the boat, hands wrapped around the railings and whooping with joy as the small vessel leapt with every wave.

The spray of the water flicked up on his face, flecking his cheeks and arms with little droplets. A huge grin was spread over his face as he glanced back to his companion. 

Roadhog gave a thumbs-up in response. If he could see through his mask, Junkrat was sure he’d see a smile to match his own on Roadhog’s face. Probably. Right?

He turned back, punching the air triumphantly and yelling out in joy. “Wooooooooo!” He cried, trailing off into giggles. 

“Roadie, cheer with me! Woooooooooo!”

Chuckling, Roadhog joined in Junkrat’s whoops and cheers with his own baritone. He punched the air with a fist, giving his own “Wooooooooooo!” of excitement for his companion.

After some time, Roadhog called out to his friend on the top of the prow of the boat. “Jamison?”

Junkrat turned around, a cheeky smirk on his face. “What’s all this ‘Jamison’ business? Ya never called me that before, mate.”

He gave a deep chuckle that sounded uncharacteristically nervous to Junkrat. “Can I?”

A huge grin covered Junkrat’s face. “‘Course.”

Roadhog gave a tiny sigh, but it didn’t seem upset in the slightest. “Earlier I said I would teach you to read. Do you want to start now?”

His eyebrows hiked up a little. It was this easy? His grin widened. “Of course I wanna start now! Let’s get to it!”

“Close your eyes.” 

Junkrat groaned, then covered his ambery eyes with both hands.

“Hands out.”

He removed his hands, cupping his palms and keeping his eyes screwed shut. A hand-sized, metallic-feeling object was placed over the cup of his hands. When he opened them, he saw a small, flat, pad-like device with a small screen.

“It’s a little primitive, but this reading device will let you read any books we buy, as well as reading daily news. I picked it up in Numbani.” Roadhog tapped on a brightly coloured icon on the screen with a stylus that looked comically small in his big fingers. “We’ll start with this.”

The smaller Junker stared at the screen for a few moments, before looking up at Roadhog with wide eyes and an agape mouth that didn’t even dare to smile. “‘Hog, I… I…”

He gave a deep chuckle. “Do you like it?”

Junkrat sprung to life. Suddenly, his arms were flailing wildly and his jagged-toothed mouth babbling almost incomprehensibly fast. “Hoggy, it’s perfect! This’ll be great for learnin’! ‘Course I like it! I’ve never had anythin’ like this!” He leapt at Roadhog, wrapping his arms around that thick neck of his. “You’re the best mate a guy could want! I could kiss ya right now!”

Roadhog froze for a second, before snorting with laughter and wrapping his arms around Junkrat. “Would you really?” 

He just wiggled his eyebrows, or at least tried. Instead, his entire face wiggled and his eyebrows just raised and lowered repeatedly. 

The man just laughed harder, patting Junkrat gently on the head. “Anything for you, Jamie.”

Junkrat would be lying if he said he didn't feel an odd thrill at hearing the nickname.

Book open, Roadhog started working on teaching Junkrat the alphabet. He pointed at the first letter. “That’s A. It’s what makes the ‘Ah’ sound in apple, and the ‘Eh’ sound in air.” 

“Wouldn’t it just make more sense for them to all make the same sound each time?”

He nodded, sniggering. “English is a strange language. Hard to learn, but you know how to speak it already. Makes it easier.”

They spent the rest of the trip learning the basics of the language as well as a few words of Junkrat’s choice, such as ‘pig’, ‘rat’, ‘bomb’, ‘hook’, and ‘boat’.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hollywood. The glamour, the fame, the stardom. Junkrat had only heard of it in whispers from grizzled, pre-wasteland Junkertown residents, but he had no idea why it was so revered (or hated) amongst them. It was a pretty bland and average city. He didn’t understand all the fuss about it.

“Hey! New teammates!” called out a man with dreadlocks and a green shirt. He was waving at the Junkers, a huge grin on his dark face. Beside him was a girl in a skintight leotard, logos covering every spare inch of her limbs. She had a small device in her hand, and was tapping away at a screen with a small pen-like object, leaning up against a large bright-pink mech.

Hesitantly, Junkrat raised a hand and slowly waved back, grinning hesitantly. “What’s this drongo up to?” he murmured to Roadhog, only to get a shrug in response.

When the two of them joined up with the group, they saw they were the only other people there. “Where’re the resta the team? And what’s with the mech?”

The girl shrugged, glancing up from her device. “I dunno where the rest of the team is, and the mech is my MEKA. I fight in it.” Carefully packing away her device with a few swift taps and a snap shut, she looked up at the two of them. She blew a pink bubble, before biting down on it and holding out a hand with a grin. “Hana Song, but a lot of people call me D.Va. And you two are?” 

Junkrat took it, giving it a hearty shake. “Junkrat. Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes. This big lug over here is Roadhog. Kinda weird to see a mech outside of Junkertown, but eh. What sorta weapons ya got?” 

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she did she turned to the man beside her. “Hey, Lúce, you look like you might explode unless you say something. You wanna take over?”

“That wouldn’t be rude?” the person in question asked. 

Hana shrugged. “You don’t mind finishing this conversation later, do you?” 

He sighed. “Fine. You gotta remind me though,” he huffed overdramatically, crossing his arms with a pout, much to the amusement of the rest of their motley crew.

The dreadlocked person grinned widely. “Hi, I’m Lúcio. Lúcio Correia dos Santos.” he said, offering a hand.

He accepted it with a hearty shake. “I’m Junkrat. Jamison “Junkrat” Fawkes.” 

Roadhog snickered.

“So, Junkrat, Roadhog, what do you do? Outside of this, I mean,” Lúcio hastily added, grinning.

Junkrat fiddled around in his satchel, pulling out one of his mines and showing off his craftsmanship. “I’m a demolitionist. Self-taught,” he proclaimed proudly. “He’s me bodyguard.”

Roadhog waved.

“Oh, that sounds pretty interesting! What sorta stuff do you blow up?”

Oddly enough, he seemed genuinely interested in the two of them, or at least more than Junkrat was used to. 

Junkrat realised he had paused to wonder. He jolted back to life, snorting derisively. “Just stuff’f some dickheads who think they’re in charge. That sorta thing. Gotta stick it to the man, roight ‘Hoggy?”

“I hear that! You like music?” Lúcio grinned. His smile was big, soft, and gentle, but warm. Junkrat liked it.

He shrugged. “Guess so? Don’t listen to it much, I don’t get the opportunity often.. You?”

Lúcio seemed to go through a range of emotions in the span of a few seconds. He listened eagerly, seemingly genuinely interested, before grinning the moment the topic was returned to him, eyes lighting up in joy and arms beginning to flick around in excitement. “I love music! I make it for a living! I really like electronica, but swing and jazz have their own charms. I pretty much like any sort of music you can dance to! Just stuff that sounds really good. Wanna hear some of my favourites?”

The sudden flood of chatter was a little intimidating to Junkrat. He’d physically moved a step back, but grinned nervously. “Sure!”

Lúcio’s already big grin spread even wider as he slipped off the strange headset he was wearing and planted the earpieces over Junkrat’s ears. A second later, electronic bleeps and boops filled his ear canal. 

It was unlike anything he had experienced before. They were odd and discordant, but created an odd melody that urged him to move to the beat. He wasn’t quite sure if he liked it.

His hesitance must have shown on his face, because when he looked over at Lúcio he looked nervous.

“This ain’t me sorta thing, maybe try another?”

The musician gave a tiny disappointed “Aw” before the music jarred, before starting with a more traditional sounding, jazzy melody. It soon melted into electronic zips and zaps, but the piano and trumpet continued to play as a voice started to sing over part of the instruments.

Junkrat grinned. Now this was the perfect mix between what Lúcio had just played for him and music he was more used to.

The rhythm started at his hips as they began to swing in time with the beat. The music travelled up his body and into his arms, until they were moving wildly around him and he danced with the beat.

Lúcio’s face bore a huge grin, his hands clasped together in excitement as he flicked a switch on his backpack to broadcast the noise and joined in. He gave an excited glance over to Hana, making her laugh and then join in their impromptu party. 

They spent the rest of wait listening to music together, dancing wildly.

~~~~~~~~~~

“This,” Mercy gestured to the vehicle, “is Hal-Fred Glitchbot’s lev-limo, and before you ask, yes, the Hal-Fred Glitchbot.”

“Who’s Hal-Fred Glitchbot?” Junkrat whispered to Roadhog, a hand hiding his mouth from Mercy. 

The large man leant over. “Don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not really up to date on most things,” he murmured amusedly, earning a snort of laughter from Junkrat.

“Our job is to escort his vehicle to his trailer on the set of the movie he’s currently working on, as he has received threats from several anti-omnic groups. We will be protecting him from any possible threats. Any questions?”

Junkrat opened his mouth to make a snide remark before biting his tongue. _‘Right. Mercy won’t like that much.’_ “So… why’re we doin’ this job?” Junkrat asked, carefully covering his slip-up.

Mercy sighed, resting her brow on a hand briefly before responding. “Because Winston can’t fund this whole operation out of his own pocket. Research grants will only get us so far. We need to get money for transportation, hotels, salaries and other things somewhere, don’t we? How do you think we keep the streets clear when we fight?”

“I… Huh.” he scratched his chin with his previously raised finger. “That actually clears up some stuff.” 

The field medic allowed herself a small smirk before continuing. “You all likely know the drill by now, so get to your places and be ready.”

Junkrat took a few moments longer than the rest of them to get in position, setting some traps up behind them so they couldn’t be take by surprise. The rest of the team had clustered around the limousine. Their meatier fighters, such as D.Va in her mech and Roadhog stood in front of the rest of them at where the front tyres were, while Junkrat lingered at the back. Lúcio and Mercy had made themselves comfortable at the vehicle’s flanks, ready to temporarily flee from the firefight if need be. The strange green armoured man had climbed off to a nearby rooftop, keeping an eye out for danger at a distance. 

Agonizingly slowly, the limo started rolling forwards, slow enough for the mercenaries to walk alongside it. At least, rolling as much as a levitating vehicle could.

Junkrat made a tiny sound of agitation at the speed, tugging at his patchy hair absentmindedly. 

It was quiet at first, too quiet for what he was used to. Taking his hands off of his hair, Junkrat bent down to retrieve a little scrap of leather to fidget with from his satchel. He’d found it a while back and found the texture oddly comforting. 

Suddenly, a line whizzed through the air where his temple had been. Immediately, the rest of the team was on high alert, searching for the sniper that had narrowly missed Junkrat. The potential casualty just froze in shock before Roadhog jolted him back into action.

“You okay?” he grunted.

He nodded, gulping. He gave Roadhog’s big hand a quick squeeze of nervousness. It wasn’t like him to be so antsy and agitated before a fight, but death had been inches away from piercing through his seemingly invulnerable skull.

As extremists poured into the area, Roadhog rushed off into the thick of battle. He tossed out his hook and brought one unlucky foe towards him to meet the bittersweet embrace of a quick but painful death. 

The horde of people blurred together as Junkrat leapt into the fray, guns blazing and ready to kill. He was firing bombs at their adversaries when a soldier in an assault mask tackled him from the side, he felt a razor sharp jab in his gut twist around, and everything went black.

And he opened his eyes, only to see a discordant mess of colour and shapes that made no sense.

His limbs felt oddly heavy and his head was filled with cotton. He blinked once, twice, taking a moment to take in his surroundings as his brain rebooted. He was in a storage room filled with crates and empty clothes racks, but he couldn’t remember going in the small warehouse.

Despite the odd semi-numbness in his body, Junkrat was strangely calm. He stared at his hands, waiting for feeling to return to them as he flexed his fingers repeatedly. 

“You okay?”

Junkrat looked up at the source of the voice. Lúcio stood there, a nervous smile on his face. 

 

“What… happened?” He asked unsteadily. 

He shot Junkrat a weird look. “Mercy didn’t tell you?”

“When would she get the time to tell me what just happened? There was no time!”

“C’mon, I’ll explain while we walk.”

Lúcio turned up the volume of his music, speeding up their strides as he elaborated. “Mercy helped design a special device during her time in Overwatch, so they could keep their elite soldiers in combat. It brings back the recently dead within a certain range using a DNA sample. She’s already taken samples from all of us during our physicals, so that’s why you didn’t, um…”

Junkrat looked off to the side and replied with a muted “Oh.”

He had died. He had been dead. It was horrifying to think about how permanent it would have been if he had been out of range or not hooked up to it, but he forcibly pushed it out of his mind before he went into gruesome, anxiety-inducing detail. 

Despite the brief thought, he was still calm. Everything felt surreal as he plodded along.

“That was... unpleasant,” he grimaced. “I really hope that doesn’t happen again.”

Lúcio just gave a lopsided grin. “The first time’s the worst, anyway.”

Before Junkrat got a chance to respond, he saw several things at once upon their arrival. Dead bodies, **some beaten to a pulp or horribly mauled, littered the battlefield. In the middle of the wreckage was Roadhog, splattered with blood and guts.** The huge man was panting as he fell to his knees, hunched over. His broad shoulders were shaking a little, but he was otherwise still and silent.

The rest of the team seemed to be hiding behind D.Va’s MEKA. Even the pretentious omnic in the vehicle had fallen silent.

“Roadie?”

His head flicked around so fast Junkrat was surprised he didn’t hear a whip crack. The so-familiar pig mask stared back at him in silence. Suddenly, moving surprisingly quick for someone so large, he rushed towards Junkrat, ignoring the panicked cries of their team.

Huge arms were around Junkrat, squeezing him tightly but as careful as ever of their own strength. Roadhog nuzzled into the small man’s neck, making small chuffs and happy, throaty rumbles. His breathing was ragged, and he whispered softly into Junkrat’s ear. 

“Thought you were gone. How…?”

Junkrat hugged him tightly, arms not quite able to reach around his body. “‘Parently there’s a thing that brings back our dead teammates. Ask Lúcio. You okay mate?”

Roadhog reached a hand up under his mask, wiping at his face. “I’m okay now. Are you?”

He grinned. “Better than ever, mate.”

Early afternoon sun was shining through the clouds by the time they had finished their escort mission. Money changed hands, and the team went their separate ways. Though before the two Junkers managed to make it back to their hotel room, a hand placed itself on Junkrat’s shoulder and prompted him to turn around. 

“Hey, uh, Hana and I were going to go to a karaoke bar later for dinner. Do you two wanna come with us?” Lúcio smiled, slightly nervous. His friend stood behind him, a huge smile on her pink-striped face. “You and Hana can keep talking about mechs.”

The two Junkers exchanged a glance. Roadhog gave a thumbs-up, prompting Junkrat to grin excitedly. “‘Hog don’t mind. Sure, mate.”

Hours later when Junkrat was getting reading for the evening, he stared himself down in the bathroom mirror. His hair was slicked back to make it look as thick as he could make it. He’d put on one of his nicest t-shirts, a slightly oversized dark grey one with a smiley skull on it. A fiery orange sneaker and a pair of ¾ jeans Roadhog got from… somewhere… completed the ensemble. 

He ran his hands over his hair, making sure it was smooth before plopping his bright orange and white baseball cap on. His hands and foot were full of nervous jitters, and he fiddled with the eye buttons on his shirt. Junkrat gave himself a nervous grin in the mirror. 

_‘It’s just gonna be hanging out with some associates. And Roadhog. It’ll be fun! I can handle this.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tilde addiction grows stronger with each passing day~  
> One day it will overtake my fic~~  
> Until there is nothing but tild~~~


	9. Reassurance

The establishment loomed over them, the bright microphone logo glowing neon in the night. Behind the double doors, a night full of revelry and enjoyment awaited them. 

Or disaster. Either outcome was just as likely, in Junkrat’s experience.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this, ‘Hog,” he murmured. “I’ve never done anything like this before. Will I be any good?”

The huge man petted his head gently. “You’ll be great,” he assured. 

Roadhog wore a red plaid shirt, the sleeves half rolled up his beefy arms and the front left unbuttoned to show off his white shirt. Jeans and combat boots covered up his lower half, but his mask remained the same.

A nervous grin on his face, Junkrat pushed open the door. Light and colour and sound flooded the street, drawing in his new companions with excited cheers. Once they’d run inside, Roadhog reached over with his other hand and gave Junkrat’s a comforting squeeze. His hand was so warm and so huge Junkrat’s hand only fit in half of it. “I can go up with you? Help you feel more confident.”

Junkrat gave a huge grin, feeling his face heat up a little at the big hand on his. “Sounds great, mate. Let’s head in, eh?”

And with that, the two Junkers entered the eatery. 

The place was set out as if it were a small theater. Three tiered rows of seats with long, wooden tables set in front sat at one side of the stage. The other side was filled with a variety of large and small tables, as well as booths against the wall. The establishment was only half-full.

Lúcio waved at the two dramatically, mouthing the words “Over here!” from the front row of the tiered seating. He was all dressed up - literally. He wore a cute knee-length dress, the skirt a lovely green leaf-print. A brown belt rested on his hips, between the border of the green skirt and black, long sleeved top. His dreads, usually up in a ponytail, were hanging around his shoulders and down his back. Green lipstick and nail polish finished off his look.

Hana, on the other hand, wore a small, puffy orange and pink hat, a puffy white jacket, jeans and pink sneakers, as well as her usual face paint. 

As the two Junkers took their seats, Junkrat threw a glance at the stage to see what was happening. On the stage was a pair of teens, crooning the lyrics to what seemed to be a love song to one another. They came together, one ghosting her fingers along the other’s cheek as their song ended. One gave an overly dramatic bow, the other giggling and joining in before they both hurried off stage.

“Going to the buffet. Want anything?” Roadhog said. 

Lúcio grinned. “Nah, we already got stuff. Thanks for the offer, though.”

“Jamie?”

Junkrat shrugged. “Whatever you think, I guess.”

After Roadhog had wandered off, Junkrat felt someone elbowing his side and looked over only to see Hana, torso sprawled across Lúcio’s lap in her attempts to reach him. Her face split into a smirk as her eyes darted to the teens and then between the Junkers, all while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. The person she was leaning over wore a small smirk, one eyebrow slightly raised.

“Eh?” Hana teased, wearing a shit-eating grin. 

Eyes narrowing and smirking, Junkrat leaned in. “Oi, you’re one to talk. Talk? Imply? Whatever. You’re one to imply, you act the same with Lúcio that I do with Roadie.”

She pulled back, giving an over exaggerated gasp of mock offense as Lúcio smacked his hands to his mouth playfully. “Jamison Fawkes!” She gently smacked his arm. “How dare you insinuate that Lúcio and I are having romantic relations!”

Junkrat’s hands were instantly in front of him, fingers outstretched disarmingly. His body was instinctively tensed, ready to run or fight, eyes wide and panicked. “Didn’t mean to offend you, I’m sorry mate.”

The two of them just stared at Junkrat, Hana sitting up properly. “Dude, it’s fine. We’re just joking around.” 

He nodded slowly. “Okay… So, everything’s okay?”

“Yeah. Which reminds me,” she purred, “You didn’t say you and Roadhog aren’t dating,” she said sing-songingly. 

Junkrat spluttered for a few seconds as the other two giggled at his fumbling attempt to defend himself. “W-we’re not!”

“Suuuuuure you’re not,” Lúcio drawled.

“Hey!” Hana said, indignant. “Lúcio, don’t just assume!”

“Wh- You were just doing that! Oh, you hypocrite, it’s on!” He dug through the backpack at his feet, pulling out a green and blue device not dissimilar to what Hana had been using earlier in the day.

She countered, pulling out a matching pink one. “1v1 me, bitch,” she said with a smirk as she flipped the device open. 

The Junker could only look on in confusion as they started up their devices, picked their characters, and began to digitally duel. 

“You guys are gonna have ta fill me in later, okay?”

No response. They were too involved in their fight, it seemed.

Finally, Roadhog returned, carrying two big plates loaded up with fruits, vegetables, and meats, as well as a few simple delicacies such as hot chips. 

“Ah, thanks mate!” Junkrat said, grinning as his plate was set down in front of him. Without another word, he dug in, scarfing down the fresh, non-sickly foods.

A cheer came from Lúcio suddenly as Hana groaned. “How did you win?”

Lúcio grinned. “I picked the only game you suck at.”

She slammed her hands down on the table. “Hey! I can play that game just fine!”

“Yeah, but I can play it better than you,” he stuck his tongue out at her playfully. “Anyway, remember how we were waiting for these two to show up before we picked a song?”

Hana gave a shocked gasp. “Quickly! Before we have to wait too long!” She grabbed his wrist, pulling him over to the electronic jukebox. Junkrat had pre-emptively chosen a song he knew so he wouldn’t have to use his unreliable literacy skills to read the lyrics out. He followed after them with Roadhog not far behind. 

When he finally got to the jukebox, he let Roadhog type in the song name for him. Once again, unreliable literacy skills. After half a minute the big man gave a frustrated grunt. 

“What’s up?”

He turned to look at Junkrat. “It’s not here.”

“What?!” He tugged at his remaining hair, eyes wide. “How am I supposed to learn a whole new song in time?! I can’t even read the bloody words!” 

Roadhog turned to rest both of his hands on Junkrat’s shoulders, making him look up at the masked face. “It’ll be okay. You still want to go up? ”

“Of course! I need to show them I’m good at stuff!”

Thinking, Roadhog came up with a reassuring solution. “We have a half hour wait time, we can learn a new one.”

Junkrat nodded slowly, his frustration partially melting away. “Roight, maybe…” he trailed off, still nervous. 

Roadhog looked at the ground for a moment, lifting a big hand to scratch his neck. “Uh… Want me to sing with you? For confidence?”

The hesitance in his tone was unusual, but Junkrat immediately gave a huge grin. “That’d be great, Roadie.”

With Roadhog’s help, they chose a song they’d be good at singing together and borrowed Hana’s phone to rehearse.

Before they knew it, Hana and Lúcio were called up to stage by a smooth voice. The two of them jumped up, huge grins on their faces as they practically skipped up to the stage together.

The moment the music started, the two bounced energetically into their song, singing in turns to the playful, boppy beat. Lúcio’s singing voice wasn’t very good. He fumbled his words, occasionally running out of air mid-phrase, forgetting to breathe in his enthusiasm and excitement. Apparently the world-class musician was no singer.

But he looked like he couldn’t care less. He was dancing around on stage, pumping his arms around with excitement as he sung. Hana’s singing was loud and energetic, but she hit the notes wrong. 

Their singing was subpar, but they were enjoying themselves. Lúcio and Hana tossed lyrics back and forth at each other with finger guns and sassy, overdramatic gestures and voices. It was less karaoke and more performance, but no one seemed to care.

Before Junkrat knew it, they were bowing to enthusiastic applause and heading back to their seats and it was his turn. He gulped, hesitating before feeling Roadhog’s big hand engulf his and gently lead him up the stage. Despite the confidence it brought to him, he could feel his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

The audience stared up at him, all watching and waiting for the music to start up. Junkrat risked a glance over to Roadhog. He looked back, giving a friendly thumbs-up and turning back to his microphone. 

Roadhog’s booming voice called out, deep and clear as he sung the opening lines of the song. Suddenly, it was his cue and with a jolt, Junkrat began to sing.

Roadhog’s deep baritone and Junkrat’s high-pitched twang complimented each other well. Their voices did a figurative dance with one another as they sung out in unison. The audience melted away until it was just the two of them singing together on the stage. Their harmonies intertwined, twisting and creating a beautiful song. It was… Magical.

Sure, Junkrat wasn’t a great singer, but Roadhog’s deep, beautiful tones more than made up for it, despite the mask over his face muffling the finer details of his song. 

But before he knew it and far too soon, the music died and the world came back into focus. Roadhog’s face was once again covered up, and the audience applauded, Hana and Lúcio whooping and cheering.

Junkrat grinned out at the audience. _‘They liked it!’_ “Roadie, they liked it!” He started chattering as they walked off stage together. “I gotta thank ya, I don’t think I coulda done it without you!”

As they rejoined their group at the table, Lúcio and Hana celebrated them with cheerful smiles and encouragement. 

“Tonight has been really fun so far! It’s great hanging out with new friends!” Lúcio grinned.

Junkrat paused. “...Friends?” He glanced around at the table before pointing at himself with a finger and a confused look.

The musician grinned. “Yeah! I’d say we’re friends! Why do you ask?”

Realisation kicked in, and Junkrat’s eyes widened. _‘I made a friend? I have a new friend?’_ Suddenly his face split into a huge grin and his arms began to wave around excitedly. “‘Hog, I made a friend! I- I made a friend!” He could barely contain his excitement. 

Roadhog clapped his hands gently. “Proud of you, Jamie,” he said warmly. 

The other two at the table just looked on at the odd spectacle for a few moments before, with a grin, Hana slapped her hand down on the table. “Hey, I’m your friend too!” she teased.

A high-pitched squeal of excitement came from Junkrat as he started to flap his arms around and look between the three of them wordlessly. His eyes were wrinkled up with joy and his grin was wider than he thought it had ever been before.

“So, where should we go after dinner?” Hana asked, twirling her hand around in the air encouragingly.

Lúcio grinned. “How ‘bout we go to a club or fancy bar? Get some drinks, get some dance…” He grooved a little in his seat to emphasise his point. 

Hana gave a grin to match Lúcio’s. “Sounds good. You guys in?”

An expectant glance was tossed Junkrat’s way from his companion. 

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugged.

After they’d each polished off what remained of their meal, they paid their bill and left for a bar. After some searching, they found an appropriate one that had a colourful neon sign with a depiction of a bubbling cocktail. Inside was dark, but spots of bright, colourful light was everywhere. The bottles on the shelf behind the bar were bright, fancily shaped, and filled with liquids of every single colour imaginable. People danced out on the open area, and electronic music blared.

Glasses of fancy shapes came around to their chosen table, enticing colourful liquids inside. The glass placed down in front of Junkrat looked like a masterpiece. The alcohol in the tall, straight glass started orange-pink at the top and faded through blue down to purple. The glass was piled up with shaved ice, and a small pinkish fruit sat on the rim of the glass. 

Taking a swig, he gulped down the liquid. It bubbled warmly in his throat, heat melting gently away before it landed in his stomach. 

“What is this stuff? I love it!”

Roadhog grinned, carefully removing the straw from under his mask. “It’s called a Hollywood Sunset. Bar’s special.” The music was quiet enough at their table that they could hear each other easily. 

Hana sipped on a pale blue cocktail, while Lúcio enjoyed a very light-looking chocolatey beverage. Junkrat gulped down the rest of his drink, starting up some jovial chatter with the rest of the group. 

“Hey, so Hana?”

“Mmm?” She set down her drink. 

He jabbed a finger to her pocket. “What was that flippy thing you and Lúcio were using before?”

“Oh, you mean my 3DS? It’s for games. You want a turn?”

A grin spread across his face. “Sure! You’re gonna hafta show me how ta use it, though.”

Several minutes later, the gamer was guiding Junkrat through his own brand new adventure in what was apparently called Pokémon. He’d chosen the fiery little ball of monkey to be his first pokemon and had named him Biscuit. Just because he could.

“Now they’re telling you to go to the little blue building over there,” she pointed with the stylus, as he had come to know it was called, at the direction the building was in.

“This is really cool! When can I play this next?”

She shrugged. “I can buy you your own console, if you take care of it. As long as you stay in touch. Deal?” She held out her hand.

Junkrat could hardly believe his luck. “Deal!” he proclaimed, taking her hand and shaking heartily. 

More drinks were placed before them. This time, Junkrat’s was neon blue and seemed to be glowing in the dark light of the bar. It was icy, but not painfully so, flowing smoothly down his throat

The song that had been playing ended, and as a new one started making itself heard, Lúcio grinned. “Hey, I know this song! This’s my jam! C’mon!” He grabbed Hana’s hand with a whoop, pulling her with him to the dance floor. She laughed, calling after the two Junkers. “Come on! Let’s all dance!”

Junkrat watched after the two, then hopped up and turned to Roadhog to give a sarcastic little bow. He held a hand out, asking with a smirk. “May I have this dance?”

Roadhog sniggered under his mask, gently placing his hand in - or, more accurately, over - Junkrat’s and stumbling when the smaller man seized his arm with surprising strength and attempted to drag him to the dance floor. 

The two arrived, and Junkrat automatically launched into an overly-energetic form of dancing that could be generously described as spasming by some. It didn’t matter if he was terrible, he was enjoying the music and his appreciation showed in his enthusiastic, rhythmic body movements. 

Roadhog snorted in laughter at Junkrat’s almost deliberate goofy dancing. “You larrikin,” he chuckled affectionately before joining his companion in his odd dancing, rolling his shoulders to the beat and occasionally punching the air with a fist.

At the little name Roadhog had called him, Junkrat gave a goofy grin, throwing more energy into his movements. 

Suddenly, the song was over. Gentle, somewhat lively, guitar music started playing.

The big man paused for a moment before bending over and offering Junkrat a big hand. “To use your words, may I have this dance?”

Junkrat grinned before taking Roadhog’s hand. The huge hand cupped his, and two giant forefingers rested on Junkrat’s hip. 

Tentatively, Junkrat mimicked the motion, resting his hand on Roadhog’s fleshy hip.

His partner began to sway to the music, humming gently to the tune of the singer’s words as the two moved in unison. He seemed so serene and calm as they danced. 

_‘This is… Weird. I enjoy it. Why do I enjoy it? It’s so calm and slow. It’s the opposite of stuff I normally like, but…’ Junkrat looked at Roadhog, so gentle and peaceful. ‘Maybe it’s because I’m here with Roadie… He always makes stuff better.’_

Even after the song had ended, they still danced together, albeit more energetically. Song after song passed, and eventually Junkrat’s limbs began to ache from dancing so long and hard with his partner. 

“Jeez, me bloody muscles are gonna be on fire tomorrow,” he grinned, taking the break between songs to stretch out his gangly arms.

Roadhog just gave him a concerned head-tilt. “Should we go?”

“Eeeh-oof!” He was cut off from his noncommittal grunt as Roadhog picked him up, sitting him squarely on his broad shoulders and gently holding one of his hands between a forefinger and thumb. 

Without another word, he walked off to where Lúcio and Hana were busting out in their goofiest, dorkiest dance moves and laughing at how ridiculous they looked. Roadhog gave Junkrat a gentle shake. 

“Oh! Uh… We’re goin’ back to the hotel. See ya guys later, I guess?”

Hana just grinned. “You can count on it!”

~~~~~~~~~~

Their hotel room was dark and quiet. Well, at least until Roadhog opened the door and turned on the lights. Junkrat had already mostly dozed off in his arms, safe and cozy with a hand wrapped around one of Roadhog’s digits.

They'd reached the living room by the time Roadhog hesitated, stopping his progress to the. He dropped to his knees heavily, shoulders sagging and stirring Junkrat as he shifted. 

“Roadie? Y’alright?” He said groggily.

Junkrat felt himself be swept up to Roadhog’s torso by huge, muscular arms and hugged gently against a warm chest, as if he were more fragile than glass. A sob came from under his bodyguard’s mask, voice cracking. “I could have lost you today…”

Oh, right. He’d died earlier. “It’s fine ‘Hog, I’m okay. Besides, it’s just me.” He grinned reassuringly, adding “Not like I’ll be missed,” under his breath in a bitter murmur.

Roadhog clutched him more tightly. “No,” he said forcefully, before dropping his voice to the same sorrowful tone from before. “I’d miss you. I…” he hesitated, as if the decades of emotional repression during his time in the Wastes had finally caught up to him and was stealing the words from his mouth. “You matter, Jamie. We… I…” He trailed off, at a loss for words. “Don’t go,” he said weakly, sounding more broken and hopeless than Junkrat had ever heard him.

The smaller man felt as if his heart had stopped for a moment. He began to hug back, pressing as much of hainst Roadhog as possible. Hugs from Roadhog made him feel comforted and safe, and dammit if he couldn’t do the same for him! 

“Roadie, there’s no way in hell I’m leavin’ ya. I’ll be here with ya, forever. Or as long as ya can stand me,” he grinned crookedly. 

“Oi,” Roadhog chided his self-decrepitation before hugging him tighter. They sat hugging for a while, simply enjoying the warmth and comfort the other provided. 

A sigh of relief escaped Roadhog. “Glad I met you,” he murmured down to him tenderly, mask snout nosing at Junkrat’s ear. 

Suddenly Roadhog winced, hissing slightly at the pain in his kneecaps caused from sitting on them for so long. “Bed?”

Junkrat nodded, unable to escape a nagging, fluttery feeling in his chest and a gooey feeling in his head as Roadhog picked him up, still hugging, and carried him to the bedroom. He was acutely aware of Roadhog’s strong arms on his back and under his butt, heating his face a little. 

_‘Why is ‘Hog worried? I’m the one who’s scared of abandonment! I’d never leave him. Right?’_

_‘Sure! It’s ‘Hog! He’s Important. With a capital I!’_

_‘What if he wants to leave?’_

_‘He literally just asked you not to! I think. Pretty sure. Maybe he meant something else but he doesn’t want to lose me! That’s the important part.’_

_‘Good point, me. Why would we leave him, though? Why does he think that? It’s ‘Hog! Is that not a good enough reason to stick around? He’s sweet and big and cuddly and kind and protective and gentle and he cares about me and I’m special to him! I just want to grab his big mask and cover it in kisses and cuddle up to him-wait, what? Where did that come from?’_

He brushed it off, trying to distract himself from thinking kissy thoughts by snuggling his face deeper into Roadhog’s neck. He took solace in the comforting warmth of his… of Roadhog.

“Jamie?”

Junkrat looked up, curious, only to see Roadhog’s usual black mask staring down and cocked to the side curiously. 

“You alright?”

He hesitated. “I… Suppose? Jus’ confused. An’ before you ask, I’m not sharin’,” Junkrat blew a raspberry at Roadhog, prompting a chuckle from him.

Junkrat beamed at the laugh. He leant his chin on Roadhog’s shoulder. “You’re real important ta me, Roadie.”

“Same for me,” Roadhog murmured, gently petting Junkrat’s frayed, patchy hair. He set Junkrat down on the bed, before giving a gasp of “Your limbs!” and rushing out of the room.

As Junkrat was taking off his prosthesies, Roadhog returned with a damp, soapy face washer. “Need help?”

He shrugged. “Sure. Gotta make sure me limbs are healthy, roight? Plus I’m tired,” he playfully poking his tongue out. 

Roadhog chuckled, pressing the cloth against his limb stumps, dabbing at them gently to cleanse them of dead skin. In no time at all, they were clean and ready for sleeping.

The two ended up bundled up in bed together once again, but this time Junkrat found he didn’t mind it nearly as much as he did the first time. He could hardly believe he even complained about this, once. The warmth was comforting, and he’d grown used to Roadhog’s presence. It was comforting, to know he was there to protect him. They lay together, falling asleep in one another’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at these emotionally constipated gay idiots god I love them
> 
> Also I worked really hard on this and got it out really quickly! I had so much fun with this chapter. If you haven't seen it yet, I put in a new note about how I have the right to edit any of my chapters with no notice. This really will help me with the minor continuity or pacing errors I've worried about when looking back at earlier chapters. It's been almost a year since I started writing this, so I've improved, learnt, and changed directions with this story. I need to fix some stuff that no longer makes sense in context. It will probably take a while and be very boring for me, but I'll try to do it eventually.
> 
> Don't worry, I'll update it around the same time I add a new chapter and leave a note at the start of the edited chapter. Have a lovely... Day? Evening?


	10. Sticking Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been just over a year since I first started writing/planning this! I hope you've all enjoyed the ride so far, but I have big plans! I will not leave this work unfinished, don't worry! No matter how long it takes, I will finish this.

Junkrat’s sleep was filled with dreams.

Not unpleasant ones like he normally had, but dreams of being hugged in big warm arms. Dreams of cuddling up to a soft, round belly in front of the fire on a cold wintery evening, nibbling on sweet foods and sipping warm drinks. Of being carried and held as if he was important and precious and worth the world to someone.

Dreams of being gently coaxed out from under the covers of the bed on a morning when he was frightened of what the day might bring. Of having his hand, his arm, his waist, his head affectionately touched to reassure him. Of being clutched protectively, surrounded by a warm shield of muscles and belly on all sides as the world raged. 

His eyelids slowly fluttered open. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon, barely grazing his face. To his side, Roadhog slept, curled up in as small a ball as he could manage. One arm was cuddled firmly around a pachimari doll, and the other was reaching out to Junkrat, hand grasping loosely at his as he snored. Almost as if he were afraid of frightening him off with affection.

After a moment of thought, Junkrat carefully nudged his hand into the curve of Roadhog’s, smiling wider as his sleeping companion’s grasp tightened in his sleep. He tucked himself into Roadhog, smiling and enjoying the warmth of his cuddlebuddy’s body. That is, until an idea popped into his head. 

A few minutes later, he’d quietly slipped out of bed, reattached his prosthetics and was standing in the kitchen, figuring out how to make breakfast. He’d never made anything more complicated than toast and noodles in his life. 

By the time he’d figured out what to do and started on the eggs, Roadhog was up and groggily rubbing the sleep from his eyes, reaching a hand up under his mask. “What’s cooking, g-uh… Jamie?” 

Junkrat could swear he was going to say something else.

“Eggs an’ toast!” he chimed with a grin, glancing over at him. His white hair was loose and messy, just grazing his broad, strong shoulders. Roadhog stared back at Junkrat’s bare chest, dishevelled hair, and baggy pants, unmoving. Junkrat’s eyes trailed down Roadhog, feeling as if he were taking him in for the first time. His big, strong, grey-haired arms. His broad shoulders and chest, and his gigantic rotund belly. 

God, why had he never noticed how… How...

_‘How he’s hot as fuck? He sure is. How’d you never notice before, you dimwit? Well, I’ve always been dimly aware of it, but… Fuck, it just hit me like a train.’_

“Earth to Jamie? This is Mako, come in Jamie.” Roadhog’s sonorous voice pulled him out of the stupour he’d been in. 

Junkrat jolted. “Reporting in, Commander Mako. This is Sergeant Jamison. Everything’s alright.”

Roadhog was still for a moment before exploding into booming, joyous laughter. “Ppffftaahaha! You have the best brain of anyone, so quirky and clever and creative.”

He puffed up in pride.

“So. Breakfast. Thought you didn’t like cooking,” Roadhog chuckled, still coming down from his belly laugh.

He shrugged. “It’s not so bad. ‘Sides, I wanted ta make ya something. You always cook for both of us, so why shouldn’t I try for once? Sure, I’m not great, but breakfast’s pretty easy. I can do that.”

“I can teach you some tips, if you’d like?”

“Sure! Hey, do these look cooked enough ta you?”

With Roadhog’s approval, Junkrat served up their breakfasts and they dug in. Surprisingly, the eggs were only slightly burnt. Still, it was a good improvement over his usual cooking. 

Roadhog gave a nod as he ate. “Mmmmmm. Good work,” he complimented before returning to his meal. Junkrat just beamed. 

“I figured that if I usually overcook food, might as well go a bit easy on it. Thought it might work. And hey, it did! I’m learnin’! It’s just trial and error, I s’pose.”

Just then, Roadhog’s communicator beeped from it’s spot on the table beside him. Junkrat practically leapt over the table to grab his from the bedroom, and by the time he returned Roadhog had finished reading his. “Numbani’s been attacked.”

“Pardon?”

“Criminal named Doomfist attacked. Their defences force is down. Headquarters are on high alert.”

“We were just there! Whooph, that was pretty close. What, so we’re headin’ back ta that bot-lover’s paradise ta help? Bleh.”

Roadhog shook his head. “We’re covert ops. Remember what we were protecting?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Some fancy glove? Kinda weird, why d’you bring it up?”

“Doomfist’s gauntlet. He stole it after we left, so the soldiers we fought off from it are probably connected to Doomfist, or at least want his power.”

Junkrat took a sharp intake of air. “Damn. ‘Least we have some idea of what the enemy wants or are doin’, right? Though we prolly have to get more info… Wonder if we’ll be doin’ that soon. Anyway, what’s the next mission?”

“Egypt. Tracking down a former Overwatch agent. Pass yours.”

Junkrat tapped his knuckles together, jumping from foot to foot in a little dance as he grinned. “We’re going ta Egypt! Ooh, it’ll be real warm and nice over there! Finally, the closest to home we’ve gotten so far, eh ‘Hog?”

With a grumble, Roadhog dropped Junkrat’s communicator on the table. “You’re off duty.”

“W-what? Ya mean I don’t get to go to Egypt with ya?” he growled. “Like hell I’m stayin’ back while ya go on a mission without me! We fight together or not at all! Ain’t that right, ‘Hog?”

Roadhog nodded, moving a hand to cover the muzzle of his mask.

He scowled. “They ain’t seperatin’ us. ‘Sides, what’s the bloody point of me havin’ a home day without ya bein’ here? Oh, I’ve got a coupl’a harsh words for ‘em. Bloody suits,” he grumbled.

The big man sniffled slightly, reaching a hand under his mask to gently wipe at his eyes.

“Y’alright, Roadie?”

Again, he nodded, but this time he gently wrapped his arms around Junkrat in a gentle embrace. “Just touched,” he mumbled through the mask into Junkrat’s neck.

Junkrat beamed. “Well, I promised ya, didn’t I? Not like I wanted to leave anyway, but I think it’s still great ya asked. Reassuring, yeah?”

He felt a soft nod against his neck in response.

“Then let’s go raise some hell until we’re sure we’ll stick together.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat grumbled under his breath as the two of them walked through the entryway of the public airfield. Two familiar, well-armoured warriors stood beside a sturdy-looking aircraft, waiting for them. Both had their weapons in hand and were covered almost entirely in thick plate armour, complete with rocket boosters and hulking, mechanical arms. 

Storming up to them, Junkrat jabbed a metal finger into Reinhardt’s metal chestplate. Hard. The huge man looked taken aback, tightening his grip slightly on the helm resting against his hip.

“Oi. Me an’ Roadie ain’t on the same mission. I’ve got a day off. I’m coming with ya. Got it?” He cocked his head to the side, a tightly clenched grin barely hiding his fury. 

The large German looked at him for a moment, stunned. “It’s your day off, though! Why not spend it relaxing?”

He glowered. “I ain’t spendin’ a day off unless it’s with Roadie. Now, I’m comin’ with ya and you can’t stop me.”

Reinhardt visibly relaxed, eyes sparkling as he grinned. “Well then, we’d be happy to have you! Winston won’t mind, it’s your own time.”

That threw Junkrat off. “What? Jus’ like that? No argument? I can come?”

Reinhardt nodded, still smiling cheerfully. “Of course! The help would be much appreciated, my friend! If the two of you work better together anyway, that will be good. But remember, we can’t fight unless we’re under attack. Even then, we don’t want to kill her, she’s too important.” 

He nodded. “Roight, okay. But who-”

“Now then, are we all ready?” Excitement radiated from Reinhardt’s big grin, not realising he’d cut off Junkrat. “We’re not coming back, so have you got everything?”

At Junkrat’s worried and confused glance towards him, Roadhog nodded. The blonde bomber sighed with relief.

“Excellent! Then come on in!” Reinhardt motioned with an oversized, robotic arm before charging enthusiastically into the craft, yelling out in joy as the rocket booster set into his backplate let out a gush of flame to propel him forwards at terrifying speed. The loud crash of metal on metal came from the craft.

Pharah chuckled, shrugging to the two Junkers before using her own jets to charge much less haphazardly into the aircraft, yelling her own battle cry as she mimicked Reinhardt’s charging pose.

Junkrat hesitated, tucking his arms up to his chest apprehensively. “I dunno ‘bout this, ‘Hoggy…”

A tap on his shoulder roused him from his thoughts, bringing his eyes to meet the big man cocking his head at him. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “Don’t make yourself uncomfortable for me.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be silly, ‘Hog. I’ll be fine. I’ve got ya here for me! You’ve been on air stuff before, yeah? You can step me through everythin’!”

“And the others can tell us what I don’t know.” 

“And if we fall, ya belly can be me big crash pillow!” Junkrat joked enthusiastically.

Roadhog chortled heartily. After a moment or two of laughter, He offered a gigantic hand to him, palm up.

“I’ve got you,” he rumbled gently.

With renewed vigour and a hesitant grin, Junkrat took his hand. Suddenly, he plopped down a mine and launched himself into the air, dragging all several hundred kilos of Roadhog with him, somehow. Junkrat laughed maniacally as they soared through the air, Roadhog adding in a woop of his own as they landed in the aircraft. 

“That’s… an experience,” Roadhog practically purred, petting Junkrat gently in appreciation. “You knew that would work with both of us?”

“Nope!” Junkrat chirped, still grinning like an idiot.

And with that, they were off for Egypt.

The trip was quite enjoyable. The four of them made conversation about hobbies and told stories of battles they’d fought in before. 

“And I have the scar to prove it! See?” Junkrat jabbed a finger at a thin, rather small scar along his collarbone. “Anyway, I’m gettin’ off track. So, there I was, unarmed, tied up, and left with nothin’. ‘Xept the pocket knife hidden in me prosthetic.” he flipped open a tiny compartment in the peg-part of his mechanical leg, holding up the pocket knife previously hidden inside the tube for everyone to see.

Everyone was oddly enraptured in Junkrat’s story. Pharah sat, crosslegged in her seat as he regaled them with his tales of the Wasteland. Reinhardt had his arms on the table in front of him, giant robotic arms adjusted so he could still lean his head on them as he listened in awe.

“Bloody scavver took m’gun, rations, and just about everything else I owned. So, after I freed myself with my trusty pocket knife, I followed his tracks back to the town of Scrapheap. I waited ‘til the cunt was out of sight of the townsfolk an’ threatened t’kill ‘im with me pocket knife. Really good, too. Bloke was right scared. Got all my stuff back, ‘specially me Frag Launcher. ‘S funny t’think if I’d never blown me leg off accidentally, I’da died in the desert there. So, knight in not-so shinin’ armour, wanna tell how ya got ya face scar?”

“Hey, my armour is very shiny! But yes,” he grinned. Reinhardt launched into an energetic tale about an old battle back with the Crusaders, the emotions of the events he was describing playing out on his face. The team listened intently, hanging on his every word.

“So there we were, a group of Crusaders facing off against an entire army! But Balderich knew what to do. He charged right into the fray, piercing right through their phalanx to disrupt their lines!” He swooshed his armoured hand down, mimicking his own rushing charge. “And, with his mighty mace, he felled one of their commanders almost instantly! Half of the team followed him, while the rest of the team tried to force their way through the crowd.”

“As I was fighting beside Balderich, I saw one of our foes lunging forwards, their sword aimed at his unarmoured neck. So, I do what any good Crusader would. I lunge in front of the blade, shielding Balderich with my own body! Unfortunately, that sword must have been made out of something very effective at tearing metal, because it tore right through my faceplate and sliced right through my eye! When I was in recovery, Balderich was very distressed, but I assured him that my eye was worth losing for his life.” His face fell as he recounted his former commander, taking on a fond tone. “I would still do so. Balderich was… Very close to me. I miss him dearly.”

Everyone was quiet for a few moments before Junkrat began clapping. “You sound like you were a real hero!”

“I like to think I was!” Reinhardt put on a grin, perhaps a little forced and strained-looking. “Anyway, Roadhog! Do you have any battle stories to share with us, my big pig friend?” Reinhardt asked, quickly regaining his usual energetic demeanour.

The big man hesitated, looking down to his laced-together fingers. “I… A long time ago, I helped fight omnics.” His words were brief, quiet, and sullen. “Helped protect people. I can’t help but worry… that I made things worse.”

Reinhardt leant over, patting him on the back. “Ah, I’m sure everything has worked out!”

Junkrat, on the other hand, was speechless. Roadhog? Opening up about his past? He’d never imagined it in a million years. Still, he better not let the opportunity to pry a little pass up. “I didn’t know ya fought omnics! Was it in the Omnic Crisis? Oh, that woulda been so cool ta see! My Roadie, fightin’ off hordes of bots with nothin’ but- Roadie, where’re ya goin?”

The big man had stood up and begun to walk off, but at Junkrat’s words he turned back. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t…” He trailed off. After a few moments of silence, he sighed and walked off.

_‘He’s really standoffish about it... I guess I should leave it alone, but he’s acting like he’s trying to hide something. What’s he hiding from me? Is that why he walked off? Was I prying too much? Did I upset him with my questions? I’ll have to apologize later…’_

Taking his mind off the matter, he decided to ask the other two something that he had been wondering for a while. “Hey, real quick. Who’re we huntin’ down exactly?” Junkrat said, turning back to them.

Pharah turned to him, sighing under her helm. “My mother. She’s a great strategist, the best sniper this side of- well, anywhere. Only time she’s ever been out-sniped was by someone she purposefully lost to. She would make a great addition to our team. Only thing is, ma has been under the radar for years. She’s very good at staying off the grid. The only reason we were able to track her down is because she occasionally sends me messages. The lengths she’s gone to, though…” she shook her head, tutting.

“I don’t know why she’s so adamant about staying out of the fight. It’s not like her at all. Hopefully, we can find her and convince her to join our cause.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Soon, Reinhardt was securing his helm in place as they stepped foot off of the ORCA carrier, as Junkrat had learned it was called. They were high above the sandy desert. City lights and sand crawlers faded into the background as they moved into the ruins. Sand pooled in shallow dips in the brickwork, and the occasional palm tree grew around the ruins. Considering how much of the ground was stone, Junkrat was surprised that grass was growing, let alone small clusters of shrubs. 

“Roadie, this ain’t really as much like home as I thought it’d be. Lotta… Bricks.” 

Roadhog nodded slowly. “Still desert.”

He nodded. “Good point.”

“Right! Let’s get looking!” Reinhardt grinned, as cheerful as ever. “Everyone in formation!”

Once in their positions, the squad moved between the sandstone walls and obelisks. Their footsteps, muffled by the thin grass layer, the only noise they could hear. Reinhardt brought up the front, hammer held firmly in front of them, shield at the ready. Above them flew Pharah, scouting out for any sign of her mother. All Junkrat could see of her was a vaguely Fareeha-shaped blue blob, shining gently in the starlight. 

The two Junkers walked side by side, or at least as they could get when walking single file with a very large person. So not really at each other’s side, but they held hands as Junkrat trailed behind. He thought that counted for something.

Why they were holding hands, Junkrat didn’t really know. Sure, it was comforting, but it wasn’t necessary. Either way, he wasn’t moving his hand.

Necropolis was very quiet, so far. There was barely a sound, not even a bird singing. Nervously, Junkrat gripped his companion’s big hand tighter.

As they entered one of the stone chambers, several details immediately jumped out to Junkrat. A cot set up in the corner, a sleeping bag laid out neatly on top. A duffel bag rested beside a crate sidetable, a newspaper laying open on top. A well-maintained rack of various different sniper rifles, small dart guns, and a few hunting knives hung on a wall. A plastic chest filled with ropes, survival equipment, and several filled ammunition clips lay at the foot of the cot.

“Spread out,” Reinhardt said. His tone was polite, but firm. “Look for any clues we could find.”

The four of them spread out, Reinhardt staying by the door to keep watch. The group didn’t find much in the small, squat chamber, other than a satchel embroidered with the name “Morrison”, as well as the Overwatch logo.

“Hmm…” Reinhardt mused. “Jack. She must have taken his bag after she left. Or maybe she’s been working with him for a while. Until he joined us again, at least. But judging from his rifle being here, I’d say the latter. Let’s move on, I think that’s all we’ll find.”

After a short walk over to the next set of ruins, they found a much more interesting setup. Several screens were set up against a wall, displaying footage of several former Overwatch agents, as well as a few of Winston’s agents. One screen had a map of the world with several points marked off and a column of data and statistics scrolling up lazily at the side, and a laptop showed a live feed of the lands surrounding the base.

In one corner was what appeared to be a workshop, glowing yellow grenades and needles filled with odd white fluid laying on benches. An odd device with egg-shaped objects attached to the bottom sat on one bench, crates full of the egg objects resting on the floor. A shelf between the two workbenches housed many toolkits and materials. A yellow weapon stand stood empty.

No one was sure which particular aspect of the setup was the most disconcerting. Except for Junkrat.

The rest of the team was looking at the workbenches and the surveillance setup, but in a small cozy-looking area seemingly dedicated to meals lay the object of his interest. Junkrat’s gaze was fixed on a mask and cloak hanging on a hook dug between the bricks. The cloak may have been crumpled and not completely visible, but he’d recognize the patterns and colours of it anywhere. Grabbing Roadhog’s arm tightly, he shrunk into his companion’s side. Junkrat met Roadhog’s confused, concerned glance with eyes wide and full of terror.

“We gotta go, we shouldn’t be here,” he said, taking a nervous step back, trying to drag Roadhog with him.

Reinhardt glanced over at him. “Why not? It’s just Ana. She’s a lovely lady once you get to know her!”

Junkrat shook his head, snarling. “Oh, I already know her. She’s the Desert Eagle! There’s no other reason why she would have that cloak!” He cried out, jabbing a finger towards the garment on the wall.

“Who’s the Desert Eagle?” Reinhardt asked, head cocked.

“She was one o’ the most infamous bounty hunters in the wastes. Completely relentless! I had a lotta trouble with her back in the Outback, only reason I ain’t dead is ‘cause I got ‘Hog an’ I’m paranoid!” Junkrat shouted, simultaneously terrified and angry. “It’s gotta be her! She’s the Desert Eagle!” 

And suddenly, a tiny pinprick hit him in the fleshy part of his shoulder and he fell to the ground, moving his arms to shield his face with much difficulty as cries of shock called out. Roadhog lunged over, using his big hands to shield Junkrat’s head, neck and torso from a dangerous introduction with the hard stone floor.

Junkrat went to thank him, but found his mouth didn’t really move properly. “Fhuuuh,” he mumbled through uncooperative lips. 

“You okay?” Roadhog picked him up, cradling his unmoving form.

“Feehf,” he said, still wrestling for control of his own face. Roadhog’s big warm arms did a lot to ward off the panic that threatened to latch on to him. There was something very comforting and safe about them.

Concerned, Roadhog wrapped his arms a little more protectively around him. “Can’t move? Hum for yes, growl for no.”

He made a vaguely humlike noise that sounded more like he was about to vomit more than anything. 

Nodding, Roadhog readjusted his paralyzed companion so he had a free arm, gently curling Junkrat up into a vague bean-shape nestled against his chest. “Comfy?”

“Hhuuuuhrf,” Junkrat slurred out before remembering to hum in agreement. He wished he could snuggle up closer and nuzzle his face into his shoulder but in his incapacitated state he couldn’t.

Pharah’s nose wrinkled in distaste beneath her helm as she plucked a metal dart from Junkrat’s arm to inspect it. A small but sharp jolt of pain went through his leg. “Look like ma’s. She likes using darts to immobilise her enemies in close combat. She calls them ‘Sleep darts’, but they’re more paralysis darts than anything. It’ll wear off, but until then we have to wait.”

Roadhog grunted angrily beneath his mask. “She hurt Jamie.”

The winged woman sighed. “Look, they’re designed to not hurt. It’s just a sting when they get hit. He will be absolutely fine,” she explained, calming Roadhog’s prickly attitude somewhat.

“Well, we’d better hurry up and find Ana. We don’t want her getting us too. Come on!” Reinhardt said in his booming tones, starting to lead the squad out. 

As soon as they’d left the confines of the stone building, Pharah took to the air for a bird’s eye view. The rest of the squad stayed in formation, close to one another and shielded by Reinhardt. At least, Roadhog did. Junkrat was still curled up in his arms, immobile. 

The three of them walked through the ruins for a while, eyes wide open for any sign of Ana. Nothing was out of the ordinary from earlier. The Necropolis was quiet.  
Reinhardt, seeming to see something, suddenly rocketed off into the ruins with a war cry, flame spewing from his back. Roadhog raised a hand as if to call him back, until the frighteningly familiar feeling of the end of a gun being pressed against his back froze him.

“Why are you in my ruins? No one comes here. It’s too remote. You must have a reason,” mused an accented voice. Roadhog began to shift, going to turn around until the woman behind him tutted disappointingly. “Not so fast, dear. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you do that. For your friend’s safety, if not yours.”

Roadhog stiffened at the threat, the cold barrel of the gun jabbing a little further into his meaty back. “Now, why are you here?”

Roadhog grunted.

“Not much of a talker, dear? What about your friend? Junkrat, was it?” She asked, sounding oddly kindly.

“Yeff,” he mumbled through lazy lips.

She chuckled gently. “Ah, I remember you. I don’t believe I ever properly introduced myself. I’m Ana Amari, expert markswoman, former Overwatch agent and once upon a time, a bounty hunter named the Desert Eagle. It’s nice to finally catch you. Don’t worry dear, I won’t hurt you badly. I trust my family is alright? You ruffians haven’t injured them at all?”

Her tone was oddly calm for someone holding them at gunpoint, in Junkrat’s experience. The only people who’d ever gotten so close to killing him were usually furious and badly singed by the time they met him. There was something chilling in her words. 

Surprisingly, Junkrat was the one to answer. “They’ff ffine,” he mumbled, words slurring as proper movement returned to his face.

Finally, the rifle removed itself from Roadhog’s back. Ana walked around to their front, a big grin on her face. “Then good to meet you,” she offered a hand to Roadhog.

Nervously, he took it. She laughed. “It’s quite alright, dear. I know you’re harmless. Well, to me at least. Reinhardt and Fareeha would never betray me like that.” She gave him a hearty slap on the side, unable to reach his back. “Hah! I was just teasing before. I like to make an impression on new co-workers.” Pursing her lips, she flipped around. “Now, where are those two? Fareeha! Reinhardt!”

Surprisingly quickly, a huge armoured man charged out from who knows where straight at the sniper. He tackled her in a huge hug, taking his helm off with a hand to let his tears flow freely down his grinning face. “Ana! I’ve missed you! When Fareeha told me you were still alive I scarcely let myself believe it!”

She laughed as he swept her up in his arms, hugging his neck. “I’ve missed you too, my large overzealous friend. Put those puppy eyes away, I’ll write you. How have you been?”

As they began to detail the last several decades, Junkrat finally regained his movement. He curled up a little closer to Roadhog, nuzzling his face into his big strong chest. A leathery snout pressed gently against his side as he did, a thumb stroking his side affectionately. Junkrat could feel his face heat up as he grinned, though he was not sure if it was from embarrassment or something else.

He giggled against Roadhog’s warm chest. “Thanks, Roadie. That was pretty unsettlin’.”

He got another nuzzle. “Anytime,” Roadhog rumbled.

“Ah! Your eye! What happened? Are you alright?” Reinhardt exclaimed, concern all over his face. The cry pulled the Junkers attention to the two of them.

“I’m fine, sweethardt. It’s an old injury,” Ana said, not paying attention to her daughter’s pained groan at the terrible pun. Junkrat hadn’t even noticed Pharah’s arrival. 

Reinhardt gently brushed underneath the empty socket with an armoured thumb. “We can get you a new one, if you’d like?”

“No, I’m quite happy with one eye. I am proud of my scars. Besides, now we match,” she grinned, pressing a gloved hand to his cheek and gliding her thumb along the bottom tip of his scar. His hand moved to her wrist, holding it as if he could barely believe she was there.

He gave a booming laugh. “My dear, you still look as lovely as ever, two eyes or one.”

The two laughed together for a few moments, until Pharah interrupted with a cough. “So, ma, Winston’s made a splinter group of Overwatch, to fight back against a new threat trying to-”

“I’m well aware of what’s happening in the world. Those awful people,” she sighed, shaking her head. “Trying to bring about another omnic crisis. I’ve tried to stay out of the fight, I’ve tried for years, but… I can’t sit idly by anymore. Innocents are being injured and killed, just to start a war. And this time, who can say if humanity or omnickind will survive.” She fixed her daughter with eyes full of fire.

“Fareeha, it would be my pleasure to teach these ruffians a lesson,” Ana grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Badass Gramdma joins the fight.
> 
> This was a long one! And I worked a good chunk through the school term on it, I only had to stop because of the last 3 weeks of nonstop stress. I'm improving! 
> 
> A side note, the original idea for this chapter was to have them separated and have Junkrat pining after Roadhog, but then I realised I can't do that to my boys after everything that's happened. Also this works better for the plot, as well as being both more interesting and somehow gayer.
> 
> Fic alternatively titled "Don't Go", because of all the goddamn times that's already been said.


	11. Falling (For you)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what up my dudes Lifes been happening and ive lost a lot of motivation to write but im getting back into the swing of things! I had to majorly rewrite this chapter multiple times and I guess you'll see why. If enough people want to see it I'll post a link to one of the drafts that I almost went with. Ultimately I went with this one because I could name a million reasons but none of them really work bc they both apply but I guess this one just gives me more room and will provide the audience with the most satisfying story stuff.

They were high above the snowy mountains when Athena, as Junkrat has learned the AI piloting the ORCA was named, loudly announced that they were “Arriving in Nepal” in her usual calm tone. 

“Nepal?” Junkrat asked. “Th’hell are we doin’ wherever Nepal is?”

“WIll the following agents please disembark; Agent Junkrat, Agent Roadhog.”

Roadhog drained the rest of his teacup and set it down with a hum of enjoyment. “Good tea.”

The old sniper in front of him smiled. “It was lovely having tea with you, dear. And I’m truly sorry about earlier. Such a rude introduction. I’m glad we can put it behind us.”

“Don’t hurt Jamie,” Roadhog said firmly, as if lecturing a disobedient child. 

She chuckled. “Don’t worry, I won’t. Contact me if you’d like to have some tea another time, yes?”

With a nod, Roadhog thanked her and walked off, chuckling as Reinhardt almost immediately took his former seat and started to chat with Ana in his loud, booming voice, full of its usual childlike excitement. 

Junkrat was already on his way, loping through the snow to the village ahead. As Roadhog fell in line beside him, the larger man’s hand found Junkrat’s and held the whole thing in his loosely curled hand. A big thumb gently brushed rhythmically over Junkrat’s hand.

“Jamie…”

“Yeah?” Junkrat said as he absentmindedly squeezed Roadhog’s hand, the two walking close together.

“I… I made a new friend,” Roadhog said slowly. He glanced back at the ORCA, seeing Reinhardt wave them goodbye before turning back to Roadhog’s new friend. “One that likes knitting and tea,” he said, elation in his voice.

Junkrat grinned. “I’m happy for ya, mate.” He shoved down his unease. Sure, she’d tried to kill him in the past, but if Roadhog trusted her, so did he. He was his bodyguard, after all. “But if ya don’t mind me askin’,” He said, continuing on to their destination, “why’re you so happy ‘bout it? I didn’t know you wanted more friends.”

Roadhog shrugged. “Not really looking for any. I’ve got you, and that’s enough for me. It’s nice, though. Having friends is nice. I…” he hesitated, continuing to walk hand-in-hand with Junkrat. “...Didn’t have many close ones before you. Everyone’s either scared of me, a business partner, or dead.”

Junkrat could feel his face heating up at the mention of Roadhog’s opinion of him, despite the cold of the snowy mountain. He flashed Roadhog a crooked grin. “And which am I?”

The bigger man released his gentle grip of Junkrat’s hand, leaving it cold in the icy air as a sudden flash of ‘Wait, what are you doing? I want to hold your hand!’ shot through Junkrat. But before he knew it, his warm hand had been placed on his head as Roadhog gave him a few gentle pats.

“You’re Junkrat.” He said, as if it were plain as day. 

“And we’re friends, yeah?”

Roadhog chuckled. “Always.”

For some reason, the way he said that made his chest ache. 

As the two walked into the peaceful village, they were greeted by a strange sight. A floating omnic, surrounded by levitating orbs and with a face covered with glowing blue lights. The omnic wore pants and sandals, but otherwise had their mechanical body exposed.

“Oh, great. Omnics.”

The omnic waved a palm in an odd, robotic wave motion. “Greetings. I am Tekhartha Zenyatta, but you may call me Zenyatta if you wish. Welcome to the home of the Shambali. I’ve been assigned to work here with you. I believe Winston wished for me to show you around and inform you of our intel. Now, follow me and I will guide you to where we will be staying.”

He floated off, making sure the two of them were following before explaining their mission in his oddly soothing, synthetic voice. “Back in Numbani, one of our teams captured several of the enemy for interrogation.”

“That was us.”

“Ah, then you’ll be happy to hear that we found out some useful information. Their organization plans to lay waste to the monastery here. This place has been working for many years to aid human-omnic relations, and tearing it down would incite omnics to become more violent to humans. We can’t let this happen, of course. So, our job is to protect the monks.”

“Brother Zenyatta!” Yelled out a new, computerised voice. Junkrat had no idea how the makers of such machinations managed to give them unique voice-boxes.

Another omnic hurriedly ran towards Zenyatta, picking up their loose, low-hanging robes as they did. Their arms were spread wide as they approached, wrapping the other in a hug.

The new omnic was clearly a different model. They stood on two legs, and didn’t move quite as smoothly as Zenyatta, as well as lacking the same aura of wisdom. Their face was just as featureless as Zenyatta’s, but somehow they seemed more youthful. Maybe it was the way they moved?

Zenyatta patted his back as he returned the embrace. “It is good to see you again, Sibling Abhimoda. I’ve missed you greatly!”

“Zenny, I missed you heap- I mean, I’ve missed you dearly. How have you been?” They caught themself, amending their mistake with a more monkley dialogue and bringing in their flung-out arms to clasp their hands together in front of them.

“I cannot complain about how I have been. There will be time to talk later, but for now I must guide my acquaintances to their accommodations. Would you like to help me?”

“What kind of q- Ahem. Of course. I would very much enjoy that, Brother.”

Junkrat pretended to barf at how sappy they were all acting while Roadhog just chuckled slightly at the reunion.

~~~~~~~~~~

The monk’s quarters were humble. The small room held little in it. The floor had a vibrant, beautifully woven rug. There were multiple small tapestries on the walls with neatly aligned characters in the language of the omnics. A small wooden desk sat in one corner, a small but sleek laptop resting on it, closed. To the side was multiple scrolls of parchment, complete with a sealed inkpot. Another corner of the room held a loom, a tapestry lying half-woven from it. One wall bore a very out-of-place looking motivational cat poster.

As Roadhog examined his surroundings in more detail, Junkrat gave a snort. “So, what’s your deal?”

“Well, I was not here for long before Brother Zenyatta left, but I respect and admire him greatly. He helped me settle into life here at the monastery. But you must tell me about yourselves! I’ve never lived outside of omnic-only dwellings. How do you humans live? It must be fascinating,” they sighed.

Junkrat cocked an eyebrow in confusion. “That’s not what I… Nevermind. I dunno how people live in other places, but in the Outback life is tough. I’ve been on my own since I was maybe… nine? Least, ‘til I met Roadie here,” he grinned, nudging his companion. Roadhog could feel himself smile gently beneath his mask at Junkrat’s boundless enthusiasm. His eyes admired his every movement as he told his story. The wide spread of his arms as he exclaimed about the harsh reality of surviving in the Australian wasteland, the wild movements of his arms as he talked about the rarity of fresh, drinkable water. The ups and down of Junkrat’s energetic voice as his audience gasped in awe at the melting rains he described. 

“When I was little, I had to move around a lot. Could never find somewhere safe. Only other time I’ve had other people who put up with me was when I was, what? Seven or eight? I travelled with a buncha other kids on their own. We watched each other’s backs ‘n taught each other how to fight. I miss ‘em sometimes, but…” He sighed.

Abhimoda leant forwards from their seat on the floor. “What happened to them?” They asked eagerly. 

“We joined a stronghold, which is like a big walled town with a strict heirachy. Few years later, two of the older kids, they were teenagers, I think? They went and joined one’a the scrounger gangs that live in the desert. They’re prob’ly dead now, it’s real dangerous livin’ outside the walls.” He shrugged nonchalantly, to the omnic’s shock. 

“I stayed, ‘n eventually I got kicked out for accidentally damaging the wall. The rest of ‘em stayed. I get it, though. I couldn’t drag ‘em into the Wasteland with me. They were relatively safe and happy, and I could make it on my own.” he shrugged. “I was angry at the time, but… I didn’t really blame em. Anything to stay out of the wastes and stop sleepin’ in burrows.”

“And sure, you can survive in the wastes, but it’s really dangerous, especially if you’re not very strong or if you’re alone. I ended up hold-hopping for a while. Scrapheap, Oasis, Shady Sands, I’ve been to ‘em all. Hell, I’ve even been to Alice Springs, the big city! They’ve got a really big population, strongest faction in the wastes. Taught myself how to mix certain chemicals to make explosives during all that, too. Got me in trouble a lot. Here’s a lesson for you, never teach yourself how to make explosives without protective gear. ‘S how I lost one of me limbs.”

Roadhog turned to him, curious. “You went to Alice Springs?”

“Yeah, they weren’t real fond of me, but eh. How else d’you react to a kid who blew up his own shack? On accident, I swear,” he added quickly. “Anyway, I ended up in Junkertown when I was, what? 24? Got into a scuff with some bad blokes, an’ Hoggy here bailed me out.” Junkrat elbowed Roadhog, grinning. “Don’t remember if I thanked ya for that. Did I? Ah, thanks anyway.”

The bigger man chuckled, rubbing Junkrat’s head with a big hand. “Eight times now.”

The omnic monk chuckled gently, before his demeanour shifted into being more fascinated. “Wow… being out there sounds so dangerous… So different from being at the monastery. I’m glad that you are safe for now. What about you, Roadie? That is what your companion called you, yes? What’s your story?”

Roadhog looked away as Junkrat turned to him, as if he’d been caught staring and wanted to avoid any accusations. The big man shifted in his seat, glancing away. “Oh, uh…” He scratched at his neck. “I collect bounties. Catch criminals. Like him,” he nudged Junkrat, prompting a toothy grin from the smaller man.

“Aww come on, Roadie. You know ya love me.”

At that, the big man gave an abrupt snort, quickly devolving into laughter almost as if he’d choked on his drink but instead on his breath instead of liquid.

But before Junkrat could question if he had read Roadhog properly, Abhimoda spoke up.

“Surely there is more than that! What else?”

Roadhog made a tiny uncomfortable groan. “I…” He hesitated, not unnoticed by Junkrat. “No. That’s all, always done that.”

Junkrat frowned internally at the response. _‘Bounty hunting wasn’t really a thing before the omniums exploded, yeah? He’s been around since then… That doesn’t add up. What the hell does he have to hide?'_

“I’m Jamie’s bodyguard now, too. Best job I’ve had for years.”

Junkrat grinned. “Aww, love you too, boo,” he joked, prompting another round of nervous giggles from Roadhog. The sound was very strange to hear coming from such a large man.

“So, the monastery has asked me to share my room with you during your stay. My charging station is over here if you need me, but Brother Zenyatta has set up some bedrolls for you,” they indicated each object as they were named.

Junkrat shrugged. “We’ll have ta share. Sleepin’ with ‘Hoggy helps stop me nightmares. Plus, there’s not enough space for both of us otherwise.”

Their new acquaintance shrugged. “I will not judge how humans rest. But, I must mention that it is nearing midnight. I suggest you rest up for the mission tomorrow. We’re all counting on you.” And with that, they sat down to meditate in their charging dock, shutting themself down for a few hours to allow their mechanics to rest.

“So, ‘Hog, should we get some shuteye? The bot’s right, we should rest up,” Junkrat asked, turning to his companion as he tugged off his mechanical limbs.

Roadhog gently hugged him, resting his chin on Junkrat’s head. “Sure. Reading lessons tomorrow?”

“‘Course. Now c’mon, it’s bloody cold up here,” he said, quickly slipping more comfortable clothes on before nuzzling himself deeply into the crook between Roadhog’s warm, soft belly and his chest. He curled his body around the other man’s sizeable stomach, and Roadhog in turn wrapped his big, thick arms around his small companion, resting his masked snout against his scalp.

As he tried to sleep, Junkrat’s mind began to wander. It was incredible to think that just a month ago he’d been so panicked at the prospect of sharing a bed with Roadhog. Now he was asking him to do so, cuddling up to the big man as much as he could.

What had changed since then?

_‘Well, we started working for Winston. A lot of new environments, new experiences. New friends, new enemies…’_

_‘Have I gotten more comfortable with Roadhog? Or is he more comfortable with me? I mean, he’s told me his name and some stuff about him. I didn’t know him all that well before we got that contract. We’d known each other for maybe a few months? I’d just gotten the hang of nonverbal communication with him…’_

_‘What could it be?’_

He glanced up at Roadhog, slowly drifting to sleep. So peaceful, so serene. Watching him so calm made his chest flutter a little. God, Roadhog was so important to him. Over the last half year Junkrat had gone from being afraid of bounty hunters like Roadhog looking for his treasure, to being treated as if he were the treasure himself.

 _‘Roadhog really does treat me better than most other people I’ve met. He makes me feel important. I’m important to him.’_ The thought made him beam, snuggling against Roadhog more. The thought of Roadhog holding him as if he were made of porcelain popped into his head, and his chest felt like it was blooming with joy and-

_‘-Fuck. I’ve got it bad.’_

~~~~~~~~~~

Junkrat awoke to the sound of a gong ringing out through the temple. He jolted up at the sharp noise, rousing Roadhog in the process. 

“Rise and shine, guests! The rest of your teammates arrived overnight. I hope you are all well rested and ready for the day!” Abhimoda’s musical synthetic voice chimed out.

The blond Junker blinked sleepily for a moment. “... What the hell?”

“Are you ready for battle, my friends?”

Junkrat yawned. “Let me get ready first. I- wait, I’m your friend?”

Abhimoda nodded. “Of course! We rarely get guests, and you were very nice to me. Unless you don’t want to be friends, of course,” They said, seeming to droop as they did.

He considered for a moment. On one hand, this was an omnic. On the other artificial one, they looked oddly saddened at the idea that maybe Junkrat wouldn’t want to be their friend. He didn’t know omnics could be so expressive. Or emotionally articulated.

“I’d… I think I’d enjoy that, mate. I don’t usually like omnics, but you’re alright, ‘Moda.”

The monk covered their nonexistent mouth with their hands, as if to gasp in shock. “A nickname? I’ve never had one of those! Thank you, ah… Rat? Junk? No, they sound too… Too much like I’m insulting you. I will just call you my friend!”

Junkrat grinned, turning to Roadhog, who was already sitting up beside him and fetching Junkrat’s prosthetics. “Y’hear that? I made a new friend, too! We don’t have a whole lot in common, but hey! Better than nothin’!”

The big man applauded gently, nodding in happiness for him. 

“Now c’mon! We need to get ready to fight some dickheads off!” Junkrat leapt to his foot, struggling to fit his pegleg on as he hopped to the bathroom on his singular foot. He began toppling, unbalanced by his erratic movements, only to be grabbed by both shoulders. Roadhog set him back upright gently.

“Um… Thanks, mate.”

“Anytime,” He said, carefully walking around Junkrat to the bathroom himself.

Once the two of them were sufficiently washed, awake, and bundled up in much warmer attire than their usual fare, they set off to the temple.

As they paused at the great temple entrance to marvel at the sheer height of the building, Junkrat heard a familiar voice from behind him. “Jamison! Great to see you, buddy!”

He grinned. “Lúcio, great ta see you again! You’re on the team?”

“Sure looks like it! I might need a little help getting through the snow, though. My skates weren’t exactly built with that in mind. But, they are designed pretty similarly to ice skates! Let’s hope it works out all fine, yeah?”

Junkrat nodded, grinning. “If it comes to it, I’d be more than happy ta help ya out, mate. So, who’s everyone else here?”

“Oh! Let me introduce you to Soldier:76!” Lúcio said, gesturing animatedly at the oddly named man. “He, uh… Doesn’t want to share his name, for whatever reason.”

The grizzled old man Lúcio had pointed out glowered at all of them behind his mask. “Back in my day, we’d already be on the field. Now let’s roll out! We have monks to protect.”

The soldier ran off, but not without pausing to add “Oh, and try to get some of the enemy for interrogation,” and then turn a corner to leave their sight. Lúcio shrugged at the Junkers before he trampled awkwardly through the powdery snow into the sanctum after him. 

As the Junkers followed behind, they fell in line with an odd, four-legged, tusked omnic. 

“Greetings!” She said, a series of eyeplates forming small, happily closed eyes. 

Junkrat stared at the odd expression-changing omnic. “...Hi. You’re interesting.”

She nodded. “I’m Orisa. I came into existence less than a month ago. I am quite nervous, if I am to be honest, but I hope we can work well together.” She offered her hand to shake as they walked, still looking quite chuffed. 

The Junker stared at it for a moment before accepting it hesitantly. “...Me too. Why are you so new, by the way?”

“I originally had no personality module, but when my original line of omnics were decommissioned after an attack in Numbani, my creator Efi decided to make me into something more. A defense force of the future, she told me. What’s your name?”

He blinked in surprise. “Junkrat, Jamison ‘Junkrat’ Fawkes, but uh… I was in Numbani before the attack. That’s, uh… Wow. So then, why are ya here?”

She turned to the battlefield as they arrived. “Efi thought it would be best if I could help out more directly instead of waiting around. She said it may be good experience of combat, but… She worries it will be a bad influence on me. That it may… ‘Corrupt’ my empathy procedures, but there doesn’t seem to be any trace of a virus here from my initial scans.”

Normally, Junkrat would have blown off the omnic and gone back to his own business after an insult, but after talking to Abhimoda and seeing how excited and enthusiastic they had been to learn from him… 

_‘They’re like a human kid,’_ Junkrat realised. _‘Omnics are just… Some of them are a lot like people. Maybe not some bots, but… Some of them are just humans in metal bodies. Is… Is everything I’ve learnt about them wrong?’_

He supposed there might be no difference between a flesh heart and a synthetic one. 

“I don't think that's what she- Whoa!” He yelled as a bullet whizzed by his head and he ducked behind Orisa’s shield as the enemy forces rushed at them. 

A covering volley of Junkrat’s bombs bounced over the shield.

“Orisa, was it? Listen, if ya get damaged and need repairs, come find me. I’m a pretty great mechanic, if I do say so myself. Could even improve ya gun if ya want! Whatd’ya say?”

The shield in front of him cracked. The team leapt for cover in the small room beside their hold. 

The omnic considered for a moment as she fired a shield generator from her arm. “Efi may frown upon some of the improvements you want to make. I’m designed to be nonthreatening to civilians. I will take you up on your repairing offer, though. Thank you,” She smiled in her own Omnic way, cocking her head slightly. “Barrier deployed!”

Junkrat grinned as he leapt out from the tiny room. _‘Maybe there’s something to this whole omnic-hugger thing…’_

He opened his mouth to speak when an explosion rang out across the temple. The small team were instantly at the ready, ‘76 holding his rifle at the ready, Lúcio hovering his fingers above his track changer to heal them if need be. “Protect their communications tower! The global onmic community will panic if it goes down!” The Soldier barked.

In ran a squadron of soldiers, yelling commands and waving at each other as they rushed in.

Surprisingly enough to Junkrat, the first one to die was by Zenyatta’s hand. Who would have thought that a calm, peaceful monk could have such murderous intent in his platform as they waited for the next one to go up. 

“Solja, why’re we protectin’ the tower?”

The grizzled old mercenary grunted with frustration at the young recruit’s lack of focus. “Because, a panicked onmic is a hackable omnic. So don’t let it go down!”

Junkrat gave a salute with his free hand, while Soldier sighed and turned away, probably rolling his eyes behind his mask.

“Barrier deployed!” Called Orisa as she replaced her shield. 

Junkrat planted a mine beneath him and launched himself over the enemy. A hailstorm of bombs rained down from above as he soared. Some dickhead thought it was a good idea to shoot at Junkrat as he landed. Junkrat punched him in the face, cackling excitedly.

The enemy soldier fell backwards into the pit from the force of the blow, grabbing onto Junkrat’s fist and dragging the twiggy man along. A scream of terror left Junkrat’s mouth as he found himself hurtling off the cliff. 

A violent lurch as something caught him. He looked up only to see Roadhog, reeling in his hook and pulling Junkrat back up. “You okay?” He rumbled, concerned as he hurriedly set Junkrat on his feet. 

“Yeah, thanks mate,” he said shakily, hand loosening from Roadhog’s as he got his balance back. He stared up into the masked face above him. There was a time where he had been unsettled by it, but now when he looked at Roadhog’s masked face he was filled with a sense of calm and affection that was foreign to him. 

The two words had virtually no meaning in the Wasteland. All Junkrat knew about them was that they were, supposedly, what people felt when they weren’t living in constant danger and stress. 

Junkrat’s grip tightened around Roadhog’s hand.

He wasn’t even really sure how those felt. All he knew was here, in this moment, he’d never felt more safe. Funny, really, considering he’d been falling to his death a second ago.

“Jamie?”

Junkrat snapped out of his reverie, blinking a few times before absentmindedly thanking him again. “Yeah, gimme a sec. Uh… Thanks for that, ‘Hog. I’m good, you help the team.”

After a confused glance (or the best impression of one that could be done from behind a mask), Roadhog obliged and ran off, flinging his hook at someone who was trying to take out the communications tower. 

The rest of the battle simultaneously took an eternity and passed by in the space of seconds. Junkrat sank into a rhythm of jumping around wildly with his mines, planting traps and firing off his deadly deliveries. 

But as his body moved autonomously, his mind whirred, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, or maybe he’d forgotten something. He was sure he was in love, he’d experienced it enough to know what it felt like, but it was something else… Something with Roadhog? 

He hated feeling like there was something that had been forcefully ejected from his brain.

_‘Okay, let’s backtrack, Jamie. You were talking to Roadhog and you got this feeling about something and then he disappeared and you forgot. What-’_

Just then it occurred to him what it had been. He’d been thinking sappy kissy stuff about him and Roadhog.

He pulled his hair down around his head, groaning at his brain.

But by then, the enemy had retreated and the communications hub crackled to life.

“Hello, hello?” A panicked synthetic voice called out, much to everyone’s surprise. “This is the village of Arn. We’re under attack!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not really happy with the ending and I don't have enough energy, ideas nor motivation to fix it... But whatever the rest of the chapter is... decent?? This isn't my favourite chapter beginning or ending but the parts with the omnics give me life
> 
> Also I might be doing a short series of outtakes of moments I wanted to include but didnt. Stuff like... Doing things Junkrat hasnt been able to do before? And just being himself. Stay tuned, I love you all, sorry bout the wait. im just human and i have needs like playing elder scrolls online every day obsessively because ive lost control of my life


End file.
